Don't Do Sadness
by jesuisl0ser
Summary: PostRent.  Collins' life after Rent.  Since Angel passed on, Collins feels like his world is falling apart.  He finds his life changing before his eyes. Some aspects are hard to handle, and others impact his life for the better. COMPLETE!
1. Don't Do Sadness

**A/N: Yay, my first Collins fic! I'm still so happy about my first trip to NY seeing Adam & Anthony in Rent on Aug. 11th. Anthony signed my copy of his book! Anyway, thanks to TMac and ILikeScarves for looking this over. DISCLAIMER: Own nothing!**

* * *

My God, it's been a year. A whole freakin' year. 

I roll over in the tangled mess of white bed sheets, glancing at a picture of her and me from Valentine's Day and wonder how the hell it could possibly be October 25th all over again. Since then I've learned to push any thought of it to the back of my mind, but now that the date has arrived again, I'm not sure how I can possibly cope with it anymore.

She's been dead for a whole year.

I remember it like it was yesterday. October 25th, 1990. The day my Angel slipped away. I shudder and close my eyes again. I'm not ready to get up.

Within the first month after she passed on, I could barely bring myself out of the house. I resentfully remembered how Mark, Maureen and I had made desperate attempts to get Roger to leave the loft after April passed on so long ago. Suddenly I knew how he felt...losing someone who meant everything to you. I was "pulling a Roger" as Mark put it by acting so depressed, but at the time, I hadn't really thought of it that way, and wasn't interested in my friends' pleas to hang out with them. They were worried, and I didn't care.

It was when Mimi had neared death last Christmas that I realized how much Angel still affected each of us. It had been merely two months after her death, and I had put a smile on my face for Mark and Roger at Christmas, just for them, because I knew despite everything going on in their lives that they were still worried about me. When Mimi "died", I'd really thought it was the end. But it wasn't. Sure enough, she woke up. And she told me that Angel saved her life.

I didn't doubt her even for a minute. I knew Angel had something to do with Mimi's revival. I knew it.

And now, here I am, some ten months later, yet another Christmas already approaching in a couple of months. Mimi's as sick as ever, but she's holding strong, as I'd known she would since the day I met her. The girl is a fighter, I'll tell ya. Just like Angel. I can see why they were such good friends.

I let out a sigh and stand up, heading into a bathroom for a shower. The warm water's a little bit comforting, but I can't get the thought of her out of my head. _Well, Angel-girl, it's been a year, and I'm still hooked on you. Go figure._

I'm zipping up my jeans and throwing on a navy blue t-shirt when the phone rings. _Dammit._

Slipping on some sneakers, I jog into the living space or whatever it was categorized as and pick up the phone. "Hello?" I suddenly realize how quiet and monotone my voice sounds.

"Hey, Collins, it's Mark. How are you doing?" Mark's no fool. He sure as hell knows what day it is. It's nice of him to call but somehow I'm not in the mood.

"Fine. And you?" My tone is cold but initially I'm not fully conscious of it.

Mark can tell I'm not myself and he knows exactly why. "I'm doing okay."

There's silence for a while. "How's Mimi?" I finally ask.

"She's, um...She's..." Mark trails off.

"Yeah," I finish knowingly. I experienced it all with Angel. At first it felt like she would make it. And sure enough, it ended. Just like that.

"Well," Mark finally says, and I can almost hear the sound of his hand reaching up to adjust his rimmed glasses, "I just...wanted to call...you know. You're not the only one who's...thinking about it, you know? It's been a whole year and..."

"Yeah," I say again.

I can hear the sadness in his voice as he says, "Okay, uh...if you need anything, just call or something, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"Okay, Collins, uh...Roger sends his best, too, okay?"

I say nothing in reply. I'm not focused on anything—Mark's voice sounds so distant.

"Uh...bye, Collins." Click.

Taking a shuddering breath, I hang up the phone as well and stiffly make my way into the kitchen, feeling emotionally drained even though the day has barely begun. I open a cupboard and take out a box of _Chex_ cereal along with a glass and a bowl.

I can't stop thinking about her. It's making me physically sick..

Opening the cereal box, I attempt to pour some into the bowl. But my hands are shaking.

Shaking. So bad.

In a matter of seconds, I find myself staring at the floor, which is now covered in spilled Chex mix cereal. I'd dropped the box.

"Shit!" I shout, kicking the box that lay near my feet and running to go get the vacuum cleaner in the closet. Holding onto the handle of the vacuum, I try to lift it out of the closet and bring it into the kitchen.

But now my whole body's shaking. And then I hear myself let out a pain-stricken, ugly cry. It doesn't even sound like me. I feel like I'm someone else, not me, not Thomas Collins.

My back is against the wall now, and I slide down to the ground with a loud _thud_. My eyes are wide, and I'm looking back and forth nervously, and everything seems dark now.

"Angel," I find myself saying quietly, my voice shaking, "Angel?"

No answer. Why am I expecting for there to be an answer?!

"_ANGEL_!" My voice rings through my own ears like an unknown note being played on an out-of-tune piano.

And then there's nothing.  
_  
'Cuz you know I don't do sadness,  
Not even a little bit.  
Just don't need it in my life.  
Don't want any part of it.  
I don't do sadness.  
Hey, I've done my time  
Lookin' back on it all.  
Man, it blows my mind.  
I don't do sadness,  
So been there.  
Don't do sadness,  
Just don't care._

—"Don't Do Sadness" - John Gallagher, Jr. (_Spring Awakening_)


	2. My Immortal

**A/N: Hope you like this chapter. DISCLAIMER: Own nothing, never will, except for any OCs I create. Oh, and just to let you know, I'll have song lyrics to wrap up every chapter in this fic.**

* * *

On Halloween, I go to visit her grave. The stone seems just like new, the engravement short and simple: 

_Angel Dumott Schunard  
__1965 - 1990_.

"Hi, Angel," I whisper. I hear some shouts and some laughing behind me. Some kids dressed up in Halloween costumes are daring each other to go through the graveyard. They're loud and obnoxious, and I resent them for barging in on my time with Angel. But I know I used to do things like that when I was a kid. Can't blame them for having a little fun on Halloween night.

"It's been a whole year, baby. Can you believe it? I'm still missin' you like crazy." I take a deep breath. "A few days ago, I kind of...had a little trouble...thinking about it, you know? I mean, I dropped a freakin' box of cereal and then...everything kinda just...fell apart. I woke up and I was sittin' on the floor..." Trailing off, I look back at the kids, who have noticed me and are slowly walking away. At first I consider that to be nice of them, until:

"Dude, that's creepy...some guy's talking to a headstone!"

"I know man, let's get outta here!"

Nice kids.

I turn my attention back to Angel. "Well, it's safe to say that I'm definitely not over you yet," I tell her, "And I don't think I ever will be. You were my life and you'll always be my life, and that ain't gonna change. Are you okay with that?"

Silence greets me in reply, like it always does.

"I'll take that as a yes." I stand up and brush some dirt off of my jeans. I extend a hand to touch the cold, dead-like stone, tracing her name with my pointer finger before slowly pulling away.

"See you soon, baby. I love you."

As I'm walking away, I can't help but contemplate what those kids had said about me.

Hell, who am I kidding? I talked to a gravestone and it sure as hell isn't gonna answer me. I've been doing that once every two weeks for a whole year now. Talking. But it was always nice to think that Angel was somewhere out there. Listening.

* * *

After work once a week, I've still been going to Life Support meetings—for not only Angel's sake but for mine as well. Many of her friends in the support group (who had become mine as well) have long since passed away, but there are new people showing up all the time, and needless to say, the message of "no day but today" is still thriving. 

A couple of days after Halloween, I head over to a meeting after teaching a night class at NYU.

"Hey, Collins," says Paul when I walk in just barely on time, "How are you?"

I nod at him, smiling. "I'm doing alright, Paul. How about you?"

"I'm hanging in there," he says softly. Paul is always so quiet and gentle. I admire his strength.

I take a seat next to Roger, who also will show up at a meeting or two in between taking care of Mimi. "Hey," he says when I plop down next to him.

I put a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him warmly. "Hi, Rog. How are you, man? I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

Roger nods a little. "I'm pretty good. Fighting a cold, though." He sniffs, and I realize how hoarse his voice sounds and how tired he looks.

I don't ask him about Mimi, because I have a feeling he'd rather not talk about it. I go to Mark when it comes to information on Mimi's health. It's too much of a touchy subject for Roger, just like it had been when April had died. Mimi always liked to accompany him to meetings, but since she's sick Roger probably thought it necessary to let her stay home.

"Okay, everyone," Paul says, trying to get everyone's attention, "Some new group members have joined us tonight, and I'd like all of us to extend a warm welcome to them. If those who are new to Life Support would please stand and introduce yourselves?"

Three people stood up. Two were girls, and one was a young man who caught my attention. His eyes were a shade of piercing green, his lips full and tinted pink. I glance at his curly locks of golden hair. It's hard to look away. He's almost luminescent.

The two girls introduce themselves first. They're sisters; one of them has AIDS and the other's just there for support—Amy and Jessica. Really sweet.

I find myself staring intently at the other new kid, who clears his throat and begins to speak. "Hi," he says. His voice is very calm, soothing, sweet. Like Angel's. "My name is Nicholas Sanders, but most people call me Nick or Nicky." He grins and I'm looking at his perfect white teeth. He goes on, "I'm twenty-four, and I got AIDS a year ago...sharing needles." He closes his eyes for a moment, and I feel for him. I glance at Roger, whose face is expressionless.

"My friend told me about support groups like this and how it would help me. Emotionally, I haven't been doing as well as I'd like," he says, "I'm gay, and there's always a price to pay for that, as some of you may know..."

Oh, I most certainly do know.

"...And I'm hoping that being able to express myself here will help me out. I have a feeling that it will." With another flawless smile, he sits down.

_Face it. He's cute_. I literally shake my head at the thoughts. Yeah, he may be cute, but he's no Angel. There will never be another Angel. And I had promised myself long ago that although she told me to move on and find someone else, I wasn't going to do that. I still love her. I refuse to let that change.

* * *

I've just finished talking to a student after class about why the government is always watching us at around four o'clock in the afternoon, and I'm sitting at my desk, trying to sort out some term papers and such. My mind wanders to other things briefly as I stack some papers, put away some books... 

My thoughts drift to Nick. His voice, his smile, his eyes, not to mention his sweet personality.

Suddenly I realize what I'm thinking, and I almost want to reach inside myself and rip my brain apart. _Shit...shit, I can't do this._

I stand up and grab my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, and glance quickly at a picture of Angel standing on my desk. She's smiling at me knowingly, and I blink back the tears emerging in the back of my eyes. "I'm sorry, baby. It won't happen again. I promise."

And I turn of the lights in the classroom as her beautiful framed face fades to darkness.

_I'm so tired of being here  
Suppressed by all my childish fears  
And if you have to leave  
I wish that you would just leave  
'Cause your presence still lingers here  
And it won't leave me alone  
These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase_

—Evanescence, "My Immortal"


	3. Waiting

**Thanks for reviewing, folks. I'm really hoping for some more reviews, though. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Collins!" 

I smile as Mimi's skinny arms coil around my neck. I hug her back, but I'm afraid that any move I make will crush her. "Hey, Mimi, girl," I say as I gently pull away to stare into her glossy eyes, "How are you feeling?"

She shrugs. "Okay. I'm glad you came! Roger said he didn't think you would because you were working."

"Why would I miss a chance to see you, huh?" I ask, flopping down on the couch. She sits down beside me, and only then do I get a really good look at her.

Her curly hair is brushed neatly and she's wearing some lip gloss and some bright eyeliner. Since Roger made her quit work (or in his words to her, "take a little vacation"), she has more time to take care of herself. But sometimes she can't, and then it's up to Roger and Mark. The makeup makes her head look wobbly and unbalanced on her emaciated body. I almost can't look at her—this is what Angel went through. And it'll be what Roger and me will eventually have to deal with, too.

There's the sound of a door opening, and Mark walks out of his room. He stops in his tracks when he sees me. "Hey, Collins. When did you get here? I didn't hear you call for the key."

"Mimi threw it down to me," I reply.

Mark looks at Mimi. "Mimi, you should have asked me to do it so you wouldn't have had to go out in the cold," he scolds.

"Oh, my God, Mark. Shut _up_. It's as freezing in here as it is outside," Mimi retorts with a roll of her eyes.

I chuckle a little. Mark gets a drink from the refrigerator and sits down beside Mimi. I ask, "Where's Roger?"

Mark shrugs. "Said something about going outside...and then something else about his guitar...I wasn't really listening because I was editing some film...and then he asked me to watch Mimi while he was out."

"I feel like a baby," Mimi mutters, "Being watched after..."

I shake my head, taking Mimi's hand in mine. Since Angel died, we've become even closer. Angel is the major thing we have in common—we both had been extremely close to her. "Don't worry," I say in an attempt to be reassuring, "It'll work out. You'll get better."

Mark nods in agreement, and we exchange a sad glance. Mimi says, "I'm a little tired. I think I'm gonna go take a nap..." Smiling at me once more, she leans over and kisses my cheek affectionately before hobbling into Roger's bedroom.

When she is out of earshot, Mark whispers, "I didn't want to tell you in front of her."

"Tell me what?"

"Roger went out because..." Mark closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again, "He just can't...sometimes..." I have a feeling I know what he's about to say.

Mark looks at me with his pain-stricken blue eyes. "Sometimes all of this is a lot for Roger to handle, and I don't blame him. He already went through so much with April. And when Mimi came back after we thought she was dead...he just thought that everything would be okay..."

I nod. "I know, Mark."

He sighs. "She's dying, Collins. She refuses to go to a hospital; she told us that when the time comes..." He bites his lip before he continues, "...that when the time comes, she'll want Angel to take her away."

I blink at him stupidly for a moment, not really knowing what to say. "Well," I finally say, gulping back the lump in my throat, "Angel...she'll know when it's right for Mimi to go...I think you should trust her with that."

Mark nods. "You know I trust her. I'm just not...ready to see her go."

"None of us are, Mark," I mutter quietly, "None of us are."

* * *

I'm curled up on the couch later that night reading a novel when the phone rings. I decide to let the machine pick up the call, as I'm engrossed in what I'm reading, until I hear the answering machine's familiar recorded voice message: 

"_Hola,"_ says a perky voice, _"You've reached Angel and..." _A giggle. _"...Collins, stop, you're making me laugh!"_

I smile at the memory. I had made a bunch of goofy faces while she was recording the message to see if I could make her laugh. I'd succeeded.

"_...Anyway, you've reached Angel and Collins, and we're not around right now..."_

I recognize my own voice: _"...So leave a message or whatever, and we'll probably get back to you, unless we don't like you. Don't take it personally."_

In the past, I've made multiple attempts to try to change that message. But I can't. It's the only remnant of her voice that I have.

After the beep, whoever is calling is leaving their message: "Hi, Collins!" Some shuffling... "Yes, Pookie, I'm calling him right now! My God!"

I shake my head and smile. Maureen.

"Sorry about that. Well, I just wanted to let you know that everyone's getting together at the Life on Thursday at eight, two days from now. Even Mimi, only because she begged Roger over and over until he told her she could come, too." Her voice is laced with sadness for a moment before she continues, "Joanne and I have some important information we have to share with you guys, so we decided to get everyone together. I can't wait to see you there. Love ya, talk to you later!"

Shrugging, I wonder what information could possibly be so important, but I make sure I write down the date and time so that I won't forget.

In the back of my mind, I wish that Angel could come with me to hear whatever news Joanne and Maureen have to share. I'm sure if she were here right now, she'd be excited and probably call Maureen back and persuade her to tell her what was going on.

Sighing heavily, I turn back to my book, trying to tune out the rest of the world and the memories in my mind.

—"Waiting" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus


	4. All We Know

**A/N: Reviews? Please? DISCLAIMER: Own nothing, never will.**

* * *

I push my way past clusters of people and open the door to the Life Café. Immediately I see Maureen's wild and crazy dark hair and her elaborate outfit and bright red lipstick. She's waving at me vigorously. I wave back and half-jog toward the table everyone else is sitting at. 

"Enter Tom Collins, who's fashionably late as usual," Mark says, camera in hand.

"Shove it," I reply bluntly before taking a seat next to Joanne. I feel her hand on my shoulder and she gives me a tight squeeze. I smile in reply and a waiter comes to take our orders. _Damn, I need a beer... _I think to myself.

After about fifteen minutes of loud shouting-across-the-table conversation, Maureen and Joanne stand up. "Okay, everyone, shut up," Maureen says in the nicest way possible, and I find myself laughing. I miss these days; just hanging out and not worrying about anything.

"Now that we have your attention," Joanne says, holding on to Maureen's hand, "We have to tell you guys some news that we both feel you should all know."

Mark, Mimi, Roger and I look at each other questioningly, not knowing what to expect. You never really do know what to expect with Maureen and Joanne.

Maureen looks around at everyone and promptly squeals, "Joanne and I are moving to Boston."

They await our reactions, which at first consist of eyebrow-raising and awkward moments of silence. Finally, I ask, "What for?"

"I'm switching law firms," Joanne says, "and originally I was going to pass up the opportunity because I didn't think Maureen would go for it. But she said she'd go wherever I went, so..." She smiles nervously.

"When...When are you leaving?" Roger inquires, an arm wrapped around Mimi's frail shoulders.

Maureen looks toward him. "In a few days. We didn't want to tell you guys too soon, just in case plans changed. Are you guys...okay with this?" It took her a while, but she's finally catching on to the bewildered looks on our faces.

After more silence, I step up to plate again: "Yeah. Yeah, whatever you guys think is best. It's your life together, and you should be able to choose what you wanna do, right?"

Mark and Roger nod in agreement, but Mimi looks deeply saddened. I have a feeling that she's wondering whether she'll see them again before her life is cut short...

"That's great," Mark interrupts my thoughts, "Good for the both of you."

Maureen and Joanne look simply ecstatic, and there's no point in ruining their happy moment with our shock and confusion, so I raise my beer and say, "to Joanne and Maureen!"

Maureen characteristically downs her drink in one gulp. Roger, Mark and Mimi raise their glasses as well and echo my words. I'm not sure how many of us at the table mean it.

I can't help thinking that Joanne and Maureen moving will be a big mistake as I'm writing on the board before a class the following day. Right now is a time we'll need them most, especially that Mimi's health is declining. I wonder if this whole Boston thing is just an escape route for them so that they don't have to see any more of their friends dying. My thoughts wander to Angel once again, as they always manage to, and I ponder about what her thoughts would be on the matter.

"_Oh, honey, they'll be back,_" she'd probably say, _"They'd miss all of us too much!"_

That was Angel. Always looking on the bright side of life. I wish I could be more like she had been. But I'm not. I've tried, really, I have. Although I do believe in "no day but today", sometimes I find it difficult to really live the message out. Angel, on the other hand, lived and breathed, ate and slept that message every day. She poured her heart and soul into it. She _was_ "no day but today".

* * *

"As most of you know, Angel's been gone for a little over a year now," I mumble quietly, looking around at all of the familiar faces at Life Support, "and I also know that many of you have experienced what loss is like. Sometimes I feel like I'm alone in this situation—of missing her—and then I think about all of you..." 

They're all looking at me with empathy, and I continue, "I even wish sometimes that I were dead so I could be with her. I know it sounds so wrong. But it's how I feel when things seem to be crashing down around me." Deep breath. "Some of you know her, and some of you don't. In a few words, she really was an angel. I'm afraid sometimes that I took her love for granted. I hope that wherever she is, she knows that she impacted my life and the lives of so many others...and that I'll never forget her."

I sit back down and Roger pats me on the back. Lisa, who had previously known Angel, is crying silently to my right. Nick Sanders is listening intently on the opposite side. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, yet his eyes are soft.

After the meeting, I'm about to leave with Roger when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Whirling around, I see Nick looking up at me. _Those green eyes._

"Hi," he says brightly. Roger glances at me, smirks a little, and edges away so that I'm alone with the new kid. _Thanks, Rog. Thanks a lot_, I think bitterly. He sure as hell knows what he's doing. I'm gonna kick his ass for it later.

I finally reply, "Hi," and I'm taken aback at how pathetically small and mousy my voice sounds.

"Collins, right?" I nod. "Um...I just wanted to say that what you said at the meeting today was really sweet, and that I'm really sorry that you lost your Angel."

_Your Angel. He said "_Your_ Angel"_, I'm thinking to myself. "Thanks," I say, blushing in spite of myself.

"You're a very deep person, you know that?" he says to me with a little grin. His smile is contagious because now, I'm smilin' like a fool.

"Uh...thank you..." I mutter, stuffing my hands in my pockets, and then I find myself blurting, "So are you." I almost want to hit myself over the head. He probably thinks I'm a straight-up idiot.

Nick smiles again. "Thank you! You're a teacher, huh?"

"Yeah."

"That's cute." _Holy shit, did he just say I'm cute?_ I think, my eyes widening.

He chuckles at the shocked look on my face. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

_A ghost...a ghost...Angel. Dammit_. I suddenly find my face getting very hot. "Um, I gotta go," I say stupidly, "It was nice talking to you, Nick."

As I'm walking away, Nick calls out, "Same here! And you can call me Nicky."

I meet up with Roger outside and he has a goofy look on his face.

"What?" I snap, annoyed.

He continues smiling. "He's definitely your type."

"Go to hell, Rog."

_We tried so hard to understand, but we can't.  
__We held the world out in our hands, and you ran away  
__It takes some time to let you go, and it shows  
__Cause all we know is falling  
__Remember how, cause I know that we won't forget at all_

—"All We Know" by Paramore


	5. Dear Friend

**A/N: More reviewsss! Thank you to those who are reviewing as of now.**

* * *

I can't believe it's already happening. Maureen and Joanne are leaving. I take a deep breath and walk over to where Maureen is standing; fat tears are rolling down her alabaster skin. Joanne is standing next to her, looking down at the ground. They're both standing in front of Joanne's nice new car. You rarely ever need your own car in New York, but it's a different story in Boston. 

Mark's trying to be reassuring to his ex-girlfriend: "You can just call us and stuff...and you'll come visit...all the time...right?"

Sniff. "I guess," Maureen says sadly.

"We will," Joanne confirms, "We definitely will. Otherwise we'd miss you guys too much and that would be a problem."

Roger sighs sadly and Mimi's lower lip is quivering. I can barely look at her.

I force a smile on my face. I've known Maureen since high school. It'll be sad not seeing her almost every day, telling me that my knit beanie is out of style, talking loudly to me as if I'm across the room when in reality I'm sitting right beside her...I remember she had been my partner-in-crime back in high school...Rebellious, spontaneous, and most certainly flirtatious Maureen. And Joanne...I've only known her for a couple of years, but I've grown to love her spunk and her sarcasm and her unique personality. It'll be sad to see her go as well.

I feel two arms snake themselves around my waist, and I turn around to see Maureen looking up at me with all of that sadness. "You're an idiot," she says to me flatly, "You're making me cry."

"I know. I'm the biggest idiot in the world."

She laughs a little and squeezes me tight, and it's like time freezes for a moment as I hold her. She cries silently into my shoulder, and I feel hot tears explode from behind my eyelids as I tell her that I'll miss her.

Joanne isn't really a hugging kind of person. But I don't really give her a choice as I put my arms around her. "Kick some lawyer ass in Boston for me," I joke, and she chuckles.

The hugging continues for a while, and eventually and with much reluctance, they leave. Suddenly it's merely the four of us who remain, standing there in silence.

"Screw this," Mimi finally says, "Just...Screw this." Roger and I simultaneously attempt to say something encouraging in response, but she's already walking away, her lanky legs bending and straightening...it makes me nervous looking at her.

"Mimi, wait!" Roger shouts, running after her. Mark looks at me briefly and runs after them, and then I'm all alone. I know why Mimi's so upset. She's angry that everyone around her is leaving her. I don't blame her, after all. We've always such been such a tight-knit group, up until now. It feels like everything's just falling apart.

I contemplate this as I stand there on the sidewalk, looking up at the sky above me. Some guy walking by with his girlfriend shoves me a little, and I'm so frustrated all of a sudden that I have the urge to flip him off for being obnoxious. I decide against it. I've lived here almost all my life, I should be used to the shoving. I think the stress is getting to me.

Maureen and Joanne are gone now. There's just four of us...and I have the bitter and horrible feeling that it will be three soon, considering Mimi's condition.

A wave of nausea comes over me and my head starts throbbing. _I can't do this anymore..._

I stumble away to an even lonelier place where, even so, I somehow feel comforted. Angel's grave.

* * *

"Who's Nicky?" 

I jolt awake and literally almost jump three feet off the couch when I hear the words escape Mark's lips. I look to him in utter bewilderment. "Wh...What?" Looking around, I realize that I'm at their loft, and last time I'd checked, I was with Angel. "Where...what..."

Roger walks over from the little kitchen area and says, "Mark and I found you at the cemetery a couple of hours ago. You were passed out. We dragged you home. Before, we'd tried to call you and everything...Luckily Mimi suggested that you might be at Angel's grave, or else you'd still be lying there."

Feeling totally and utterly embarrassed, I close my eyes again and flop back down against a pillow. "You should have just left me there..." I blurt, immediately regretting it.

"Left you there?" Mark asks, "What the hell kind of people do you think we are, Collins?"

I groan. "Mark, please...My head hurts. Let me just go home..."

"_Ooh, poor baby_," Roger mutters, "We drag you all the way here and you're half-conscious and can barely walk on your own two feet, and now you're feeling sorry for yourself and saying we should have left you there. Get a grip, Collins."

"If you had left me alone, you wouldn't have had to deal with me. That's my point!" I don't even recognize the words I'm saying to my two best friends. It's like I don't have any control of myself anymore.

"Keep it down, will you? Mimi's sleeping."

I'm sitting up now, and my head's throbbing and everything's spinning.

Mark's trying to keep calm. "Collins, lay back down, you look like you're gonna barf and these shoes are new."

Suddenly I feel like I'm weighing myself down, and I can't help but sink back down to the comfort of the old and frayed couch. There's more silence, but it's a forgiving silence. It's our version of apologizing to each other. That's how it's always been.

"Thanks," I mutter to them. Mark smiles a little and nods to me, and Roger shrugs.

"So, let me ask again," Mark says, "Who's Nicky?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You were saying the name 'Nicky' in your sleep." _Oh, shit_, I think, _Shit, shit, shit..._

I hear a snort and turn my head a little to see Roger laughing as he sits on the window ledge. Mark's eyebrows are raised: "What am I missing here? Who the hell is Nicky?"

"No one," I say, but at the same time, Roger says, "Some kid at Life Support that Collins is 'ga-ga' for."

Mark laughs loudly. "Wow," he says, "I wasn't expecting that one. What does he look like? Is he new?"

I wince. "Jesus, Rog. I could strangle you right now." I make another attempt to stand up and this time, I do, ignoring the shooting pain everywhere in my body.

"What?" Roger asks, "I was just telling Mark—"

"_He's just a guy that I know_," I say coldly through gritted teeth, "And you're making a bigger deal out of this than you should. It's immature, it's stupid, and I'm outta here. You're the one who needs to get a grip, okay?"

"Collins, chill out," Mark warns, but I ignore him. I storm out of the loft, slamming the sliding door behind me, and only after the fact do I realize that Roger is potentially right.

_Dear friend, what's on your mind?  
__You don't laugh the way you used to  
__But I've noticed how you cry  
__Dear friend, I feel so helpless  
__I see you sit in silence as you fight the pain each day  
__I feel there's nothing I can do..._

—"Dear Friend" by Stacie Orrico


	6. Bring On the Rain

**Reviews are love! Please?**

* * *

I'm sitting in a booth at the little coffee shop near the apartment building. It's the only one I've ever been to that I can actually afford. Maureen had briefly mentioned it to me once. Now, once in a while, I'll stop there for a coffee. You don't realize how much you'll miss a person until they're already gone—I can't stop thinking about Maureen and Joanne, and of course, Angel. 

I'm staring blankly at the menu. They have Danish and cheesecake and all that stuff that yuppies and rich people eat, and some sandwiches. I think I'm gonna stick with plain old coffee. It's the cheapest thing on the menu, it tastes good, it keeps me awake. End of story.

"Hi, welcome to JJ's Coffee House..."

I immediately recognize the voice and my head snaps up to look at the waiter. Sure enough:

"My name is Nick and I'll be your—Oh, hey, Collins!" He smiles at me warmly and I smile back, "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"The feeling's mutual," I reply jokingly, "I didn't know you worked here."

Nicky rolls his eyes. "Pays the bills...just barely." He's wearing a black apron and some navy blue jeans, and a bright green t-shirt. He grins again and takes out his notepad. "What can I get ya?"

"I'll just have a cup of hot coffee...Cream and sugar..." It felt a little weird to order something from Nick and I wasn't exactly sure why.

Nicky puts his pad away without writing anything down, and I'm figuring that wasn't a very difficult order to memorize. "Okay, then! I'll be back with that in a sec."

I nod a 'thank-you' and let out a big sigh. It's more than ironic that I chose this place at this time during Nick's shift...It's almost scary. I try not to think about it—or _him_ for that matter until I find myself staring at him when he places the coffee in front of me, and next to it, a small strawberry and cream cheese Danish.

"On the house," he says. Those green eyes are sparkling at me.

I chuckle. "Thank you!" It's the first time I've felt genuinely happy in a long time, and I'm shocked at my own emotions.

"No problem. Can I get you anything else?"

I shake my head, and he laughs loudly. "...What?"

"It's kind of funny, talking to you all _formally_," he says, forming air quotes with his fingers for the word 'formally'. And with that, he takes a seat right across from me in the booth. "So, how are you?"

_Damn, this kid is bold_. "I'm okay. Yourself?"

"Can't complain...Well, I can, but I won't."

I laugh a little. "I know what you mean."

"You seemed kind of sad earlier. All hunched over and...you know..." he trails off, and I think it's kind of rude of him to be so nosy...

I just shrug my shoulders. "I was just thinking...a lot of shit going on, you know?"

He nods. "Yeah, I know...I'm here if you wanna talk about anything."

"Thanks." This is awkward. Too awkward.

And then I find myself picking up on the conversation—it's _me_ taking the extra step. I feel like I'm outside myself as I talk with him about anything and everything. He apparently doesn't see the risk of getting fired for not working his shift, as he's sitting with me and it doesn't look like he's gonna move.

"So," I say, "How is it that someone like you is single?" When I realize the words slip from my mind through my lips, I quickly add cooly, "I mean, considering you're a great guy."

The smile that spreads across his face almost makes the room seem brighter. "That means a lot coming from you," he says.

I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, so I say nothing as he continues, "My boyfriend of a year and a half left me after I'd found out I had AIDS. He got tested and he'd contracted it too, which didn't surprise either of us...We'd both been sharing needles, we were _both_ to blame..." He sighs, "But, still, he blamed me and called me an idiot, beat the crap outta me, and left."

I'm surprised at the calmness in his voice as he says this, as if it were nothing. He's telling me, a guy he's known for only a few weeks, his secrets and his life stories.

"I'm sorry," I finally say.

"Nah, it was a while ago," he replies with a wave of a hand, "Have you been with anyone since Angel?"

Slightly taken aback at his abrupt question, I mutter, "Uh...No, I just...have the feeling I'll never find someone like her again..." I feel my throat begin to close up and I stop talking.

"You loved her a lot, huh?" I don't reply. _Isn't it obvious how much I loved her?_

"Well," Nicky stands up, "I'll bet she's watching you right now. And she's happy. And she'll want you to be happy, too, right?" He adjusts the apron on his perfect hips, and looks to me for a reply.

"Yeah," I answer, "Yeah...You're right."

Another smile. "Gotta go, before the boss kicks my ass..."

I laugh. "Go ahead. Thanks for the coffee; here, I'll pay for at least the—"

"_On the house_, Mr. Collins," he repeats playfully, "I'll see you at Life Support, okay?"

He turns to leave, and suddenly I'm sad to see him walk away, and I want him to stay...to talk some more with me...

"Wait!" I shout in spite of myself.

Whirling around, Nick glances at me, and I look into those dazzling eyes and lose myself in them. "Yeah?"

I realize that I honestly have nothing to say to him. "I...thanks," I mutter, "For everything."

"No problem, Collins," he chirps, "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," I promise him. And I mean it.

* * *

"Hey, Rog? Mark? Mimi? Anyone home?" I sigh heavily into the telephone, "Anyway, I just wanted to say I was acting like an idiot the other day, and you guys have a right to be pissed off...But I'm sorry, 'aight? Thanks for dragging my lazy ass all the way back from the cemetery. I owe you." Another sigh. "Okay, talk to you later." 

My conversation with Nicky has helped me more than I thought it would. Since this morning, I've felt like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It's been a good day—one of the best in a long time.

And then I realize I haven't thought about my Angel since this morning at the coffee shop. Warily, I wander into the bedroom and open the closet door. Her most favorite outfits are still in the spots she'd last left them—others we've given to Mimi or donated to charity, as she would have wanted. I pull out her green, yellow and orange sweater, a special favorite of hers, and bring it to my face, absorbing her scent. I blindly shuffle to the bed and collapse against my pillow. I press the sweater against my chest, and the fabric feels warm against my cold skin.

I hear the raindrops pitter-patter against the window.

But for the first time in a long time, I don't cry.

_Tomorrow's another day  
And I'm thirsty anyway  
So bring on the rain  
I'm not gonna let it get me down  
I'm not gonna cry  
And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight_

—Jo Dee Messina, "Bring On the Rain"


	7. Keep Holding On

**A/N: Yeah. This chapter's depressing. Be prepared.**

* * *

I don't hear from Mark, Roger, or Mimi for another three days. This concerns me because, after all, they're not the kind of people to hold grudges. It was a petty little argument. It should be over and done with by now. Forgotten, really. I've mostly forgotten about it myself. 

So I'm just walking through the door after work when the phone rings. I don't feel like waiting to screen the call, so I jog over to the telephone and answer it with a slightly agitated, "Yeah?"

"...Collins?" Roger's voice is quiet and shaky compared to his usual deep, rough tone of voice. I can tell something's up.

"Yeah, it's me, man. Everything okay?"

"Mimi's dead, Collins."

The words echo through my mind for a moment as I sputter, "I...you..._what_?!"

"She's fuckin' _gone_..." his voice cracks, and tears spring to my eyes, "She just...went...Just like that..."

"Did you take her to a hospital?" I manage through my tears.

"No...No, Mark and I weren't even expecting her to...She just...was awake...and then...she died..." He lets out a painful sob.

_I can't believe this. I can't even believe this_...I keep repeating in my mind, "Did she _say_ anything to you?!"

"She asked for a drink of water, Collins. _A drink of fucking water! _And I held her head up so that she could drink it, because that's what I've been having to do for her lately..." He takes a deep breath and continues, "And then she said that she loved me—she_ knew_, dammit, Collins! She knew what was gonna happen!"

"Oh, my God...Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God..." I whisper repetitively, sinking down into the kitchen chair.

"...And I told her I loved her too, and she hugged me and then I felt her stop breathing...Oh, God, Collins, if I had known..._Shit_!" There is a loud _bang_ and some shuffling.

I blink stupidly as tears stream down my face like a waterfall. "Rog? Roger, are you still there?"

More shuffling. "Collins..." It's Mark.

"Mark? Where's Roger?"

A pause. "He...He threw the phone down on the ground...almost broke it...I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry about it, okay? He's upset." I find myself unable to control my emotions any longer, and I choke out a quiet sob.

I hear Mark sniffle once or twice on the other line—he's not much of a crier, "She went peacefully, Collins...Angel's...with her now."

This causes me to cry harder. "_How do we know that_?" I shout in spite of myself.

"We don't, but shouldn't we believe that Angel—"

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Mark," I interrupt him, "There's too much shit going on right now. I just wish Mimi could have held on a little longer...I never got to say goodbye..."

Sniffle. "I know, Collins. Neither did I. Or Maureen, or Joanne...Even Benny would have liked to see her before...before all of this..." He coughs and I know he's trying to keep down the tears that want to flow against his pale skin, "I just called Maureen a while ago...I had to keep her crying over the phone until Joanne got home...They're gonna try to come back out here for the funeral, but...they're not sure..."

"What the hell, Mark?!" I cry out again, sinking lower into the wooden chair, "Our whole family is falling apart. Angel's gone...Mimi's gone...and Mo and Jo can't even catch a break in Boston to see us..." I'm thinking aloud at this point, not really aware of what I'm saying.

"I know, Collins..."

I stay on the phone with Mark for a little while longer in silence...just so I can hear the sound of someone else's breathing besides my own.

* * *

"Mimi-girl, you were one of a kind," I call out into the echoing Church, "So full of life and energy, and love. If it hadn't been for you helping me after Angel's death, I probably would still be hiding in my room in a dark corner somewhere...You were always the reminder, Mimi. The reminder that life can go on even after earthly death. You said you saw Angel last Christmas; that she kept you alive..." I close my eyes for a moment to keep from crying, "And I know you're with her right now. And that you're watching all of us. I hope we can keep making you proud, Mimi. I'll see you again someday. Until then, girl...no day but today. I love ya." 

I hobble down the steps from the altar and sit in the pew next to Joanne and Maureen, who are making a brief visit for the funeral and are leaving after the burial. Go figure. I squeeze Joanne's hand and look up as Roger stands and goes to the center of the altar.

He doesn't speak. He sings. He sings his heart out and strums his guitar to the song he'd written for her during a time that seems so long ago...

_Your eyes, as we said our goodbyes  
__Can't get them out of my mind, and I find  
__I can't hide from your eyes_

I bite my lip and turn to look at Mark. There is a single tear making its way slowly down his face. Benny is next to him, his head bent and his eyes closed. Roger is crying now and at first I'm not sure if he's able to finish the song. But he's determined. That's how Roger's always been. He gets through the final notes and falls to his knees. Just the sight of him, so pained and torn, makes me even more upset. I'm not sure how much longer I can handle this.

* * *

I barely make it to Life Support two days later. I've been drowning myself in work at NYU so I don't have to keep thinking about everything that's going on. 

I explain to my fellow members about Mimi's death. Some of them had gone to Mimi's funeral, of course, because they knew her so well. Some of them had only known her for a little while but are still deeply saddened by her passing.

It's almost Thanksgiving. My life seems to be flying by and I don't have any recollection of it. It's like I'm watching someone else live my life; like I don't really exist...

After the meeting, I'm walking down the sidewalk when I see Nicky walk alongside me. I honestly don't want to talk to him, or to anyone else for that matter. He stops me by putting a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Suddenly, I'm holding him against me, and for some reason it feels okay. "I'm...I'm okay, Nick..." But I'm not.

And soon I find myself crying silently against him, telling him how I'm feeling and not wanting him to go away. The sound of his voice makes everything a little bit better.

But not completely. I wonder if I'll ever be _completely_ better.

_When it gets cold, and it feels like the end  
__There's no place to go, you know I won't give in  
__No, I won't give in  
__Keep holding on, 'Cause you know we'll make it through  
__We'll make it through, Just stay strong  
_'_Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_

—"Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne


	8. Bring Me to Life

**I would like to personally thank The Man for his kind and meaningful reviews. XD LMFAO! Enjoy, folks.**

* * *

When I wake up, I'm lying on an unfamiliar couch, smelling unfamiliar air and looking around blankly at an unfamiliar room. _Where the hell...?_

And then I remember. After Life Support, I completely flipped out...and Nick had been there for me. I wasn't sure if I was able to make it home...to come back to a dark, empty apartment...

I'm at Nicky's. Nicky took me home. Nicky is somewhere in this house. Sighing shakily, I sit up and find him peering down at me.

"Good morning," he says.

Morning? Already? "Uh...Hi..."

He giggles and sits down on the edge of the couch, those green eyes sparkling. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," is my default answer, "I'm sorry...I mean, I was probably a burden and everything..."

"Oh, please, Collins," he says nonchalantly, "You wanted me to walk you home, but you were really upset and my place was the closest, so..." He trails off. "I hope the couch was comfortable enough. You were totally out of it and you fell asleep in, like, a minute..."

I find myself blushing. "You really didn't have to do this, Nicky...I mean, I appreciate it, but..."

"I wanted to," he interrupts, "I really did. It gave me something to do."

I wonder about that last comment as I stand up. I'm feeling weak in the knees but I try not to think about it as I head for the door. "Thanks so much. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

"Why don't you stay?" he asks. A part of me wants to, but another voice in my head keeps reminding me of Angel...

"I'm sorry," I find myself saying again, "I can't. I gotta...I gotta go."

He nods understandingly and unlocks the door for me. "I'll see you at Life Support, then. And, listen..." He takes hold of my arm before I can walk any further and continues, "If you need anything...anything at all, I'm here."

I smile at Nick weakly. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." And then he does something that I honestly don't think either of us were expecting. He leans up and kisses my cheek.

Shocked at what's just happened, I stare at him for a moment, my eyes wide. The side of my face he placed his lips on is tingling like crazy. And that feeling of utter ecstacy—that sensation— is something I haven't felt in a long time.

It persuades me to stay.

* * *

Two weeks later, it's Thanksgiving. I usually visit Mark and Roger between the time that I'm working, especially at holidays. It's not as if we actually have a lot of _food_ on Thanksgiving; we just like pretending we do. Despite recent events, I refuse to let this year be any different, and I go to their place with as much food as I could afford—chips and dip, some stuffing and some vegetables. And of course, some Stoli. Nice Thanksgiving dinner, huh?

Roger's still a little off-balance, and I can completely understand why. When I pull him into a hug after being let into the loft, he kind of half-hugs me back, and he looks completely zoned out. I almost expect to see Mimi there as well, but in reality, I know I'll never see her there again.

"Thank God you brought us food, Collins," Mark says, "Because you know well enough that we don't have any..."

I chuckle as I spread all the food out on the kitchen table. "It's not much, but at least it's something to feed your skinny asses."

Mark laughs quietly and Roger forces a smile. "So," I say, "How have you guys been?" It's a stupid question to ask, but at least it brings about conversation.

"We're...okay," Mark replies, flashing me that half-grin of his, "It's, uh...been a little difficult."

I bite my lower lip and glance at Roger, who is staring out the window with a blank expression on his face. "Rog?"

He looks to me. "Uh-huh?"

"You okay, man?" I can't help but question Roger's disposition. He's one of my best friends, after all, and I hate seeing him like this.

"I'm fine," he says bluntly before turning his attention to the window again.

Mark looks around nervously and says, "Anyway, have you heard from Maureen and Joanne, Collins?"

I shake my head. "Nope. You?"

"Joanne called last week to ask how we were, but it was a short conversation...She didn't seem very happy..."

I sigh heavily and take a seat on the couch, absentmindedly pulling out a joint and lighting it. "Are you, Mark?"

"Am I what?"

"Happy."

He sits down next to me, ignoring the smoke surrounding my quizzical expression. "Like I said...I'm okay. I met...someone."

"No way!" I shout in spite of myself, "Are you serious, man?"

Roger looks away from the window to smile slightly. "Yeah, Mark, tell Collins about _Charmaine_." For a moment, he seems like the old Roger, and I think it's because we managed to get him to stop thinking about Mimi for the time being.

Mark's normally pale face is now a light shade of pink. "Uh..She's...just a girl. I've known her for a while...for about three months."

"So?" I challenge, "Is she your girlfriend?" I punch him in the arm jokingly, and he winces.

"Yeah...Yeah, she is," he says, adjusting his glasses.

I laugh loudly and pat him on the back. "Congratulations, man. I wanna meet her. See if she's right for ya."

"She's actually coming over today...She sorta ran away from home a long time ago and has no intention of going back there for Thanksgiving..."

"Nice," I say sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes and flips me the bird.

"Isn't it?" Roger chimes in, "She's as broke as us, and _we're_ inviting _her_ over for Thanksgiving. Once again, thank you for bringing food."

I laugh again, and for those few seconds it feels like things are like they used to be. But reality always comes back to haunt me.

_(Wake me up) Wake me up inside  
(I cant wake up) Wake me up inside  
(Save me) Call my name and save me from the dark  
(Wake me up) Bid my blood to run  
(I cant wake up) Before I come undone  
(Save me) Save me from the nothing I've become_

—"Bring Me To Life" by Evanescence


	9. Breakaway

"So how have you been, Collins?" Mark asks. We're still sitting and waiting for Charmaine to make her grand arrival. I can't wait to see her. For some reason, I picture her to be all small and white with glasses, like Mark. Come on. Really. That would be amusing as hell.

I shrug. "Pretty good...I think...things are finally getting better."

"Did you hook up with Nick yet?" Roger asks nonchalantly.

I blink at him. "Huh? I...uh...No...Um..."

"And I still haven't met that guy," Mark says in a tone of mock sadness, "Now I'll never get to see Collins' _crush_!"

"I'm gonna kill the both of you before we have dinner. You'll die hungry." I raise my eyebrow and try to be serious, but I can't contain my smile. They're smirking deviously as well.

"Seriously, though," Roger says, "How have things been with him?"

Suddenly I want to tell them everything. I feel like they should know. I explain to Mark and Roger about what happened at the Life Support meeting after Mimi's passing, and how Nick had helped me out so much.

"...And so I stayed with him...Just for the day...and it was like we've known each other forever...He can read me like a book. I swear. But I'm just afraid..." I look to them and they look back at me with knowing eyes. I go on, "I think he knows what he's doing. It's obvious he wants to be more than _friends_ with me, guys. And I can't do that...to Angel..."

Mark looks down at his hands for a moment and then says, "Isn't this what Angel would want?"

"God, guys, I don't know..." I sigh. "I know she'd want me to be happy...But I still love her."

"You don't have to _stop_ loving her," Roger says, "You can just reserve a spot for her in your heart...like I did for April when Mimi came along. But you can give your heart to Nick, too." Roger just hit the situation right on the dot.

"...Do you wanna be with him, Collins?" Mark questions.

I roll my eyes at the both of them, trying to hide my emotions with my cocky attitude. "You're both being cheesy..."

"We're trying to help you, okay?" Mark snaps, "Do you or don't you?"

I honestly have to think about this for a moment. I think about that day I'd spent with Nicky. Like I said to Mark and Rog, I feel like I've known him forever. I had the most intellectual conversations with him that day. _He's sweet, he's funny, he's smart...like Angel. I think that's why I'm so attracted to him._

"I do," I finally say, "I...I want to...but Angel—"

"...Would want you to 'forget regret' and all that shit, right?" Ah, Roger and his sensitive ways.

"Yeah," I reply.

"So, go for it. Then you won't have to keep boring us with your corny love life."

"Rog, I seriously _will_ hurt you," I say with no hesitation.

"Nah, you wouldn't. It's Thanksgiving. Be _thankful_ that Mark and I are giving you these words of wisdom."

I roll my eyes and prepare to say a sly retort when a voice calls from outside, "Mark? You up there? Can I have the key?"

Mark immediately stands up and brushes off his clothes, straightens his glasses and makes sure he looks okay.

"Well, well, well," I mutter, "Look who's got a corny love story of his own..."

"Shut up." Mark runs over and throws the key down to Charmaine.

Soon, all three of us are watching as the door slides open and a young girl enters the room. She's pretty; I"ll give her that much. She has short auburn hair and eyes to match. She's shorter than Mark, but as soon as she enters, I can tell she's a ball of fire. She runs to him and flings her arms around his neck. "Hi, Mark!" she squeals, kissing him affectionately.

Roger and I immediately react by making 'kissy' noises when they break apart.

Mark's face is beat red now, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. "Uh," he says, "Char, this is Collins. And...unfortunately, you already know Roger."

Charmaine laughs and walks over to shake my hand. "Hi, I'm Charmaine. Mark tells me a lot about you."

She has a firm grip on my hand—she's wearing black nail polish. I give her a smile. "Nice to meet you, Charmaine."

Bounding back over to Mark, Charmaine slides her arm around his waist. "Don't tell me you actually have _food_ today, baby."

Roger fake-gasps and says, "Yes! We _do_!"

I laugh out loud at his tone. Roger seems okay now. I think it helps that we're all here to support him. But I wish Maureen and Joanne were here with us...and Mimi, and of course, Angel. I miss them more than ever.

And Nicky. I miss him, too. I haven't talked to him much lately. But I make a mental note to take some time to talk to him. To explain myself—not only for his benefit, but for mine as well.

* * *

"Hey, Angel, baby," I whisper. Once again, insomnia takes over me in the middle of the night and I find myself at her grave, "Sorry I haven't been here in a while. It's been tough, with Mimi and all. Mimi-girl, if you're listening, I hope you're doin' good up there." Closing my eyes, I say, "Angel, I wanted to ask you somethin'." 

Silence.

"I met this guy. Nick. And you know how I feel about you, baby. _I love you so much_." I feel a couple of tears stream down my face, "But...I'm feeling like I love Nick too. He wants to be with me and I keep pushing him away. And I just want to ask you...if it's okay...for me to be with him..."

Silence.

"You know I'll always love you. But you told me to move on. I told you I couldn't...and now that I really am, I feel like I'm moving so fast that I can't stop and think. And I just...hope you know that you'll always be my girl. No matter what. But it's been over a year now, baby. I think I'm ready to let you go."

Suddenly, the silence breaks, and a gentle breeze blows against my tear-stained face. It's Angel. I can _feel_ it. She's telling me that it's okay.

Smiling at the touch, my eyes still closed, I take a deep breath. "Thank you, baby. I'll see you soon, okay?"

And I walk away from her. I'm not crying anymore.

_I'll spread my wings,  
__and I'll learn how to fly  
__Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye  
__I gotta take a risk, take a chance,  
__make a change, and breakaway.  
_—"Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson


	10. I'm With You

**A/N: I used another one of Avril's songs at the end of this chapter. I couldn't think of one to use to wrap up this chapter; the lovely TMac picked this one out for me. Don't like it? Just don't read the ending part. Own nothing. R&R please.**

* * *

"There are twenty-four more days until Christmas!"

My eyebrows furrowed, I turn around to face Nick Sanders' bright smile in the darkness of the night. It's cold outside and he's wearing but a vest and a long-sleeved shirt. His cheeks are red and his teeth are chattering, but he's smiling all the more. We're both just leaving Life Support and I've offered to walk him home. He hurries down the sidewalk to catch up with me.

I chuckle at the sight of him, wrapping my leather coat tighter around my body. "You're counting?"

"Well, it's not very hard. It's already December 1st, right?" He's alternating his weight from foot to foot to keep warm. He looks adorable. I think tonight might be a good night to have a talk with him. I've been putting it off for a while now, but it's now or never, right?

"You must be freezing," I say to him.

He shrugs. "I don't mind."

"But you could catch a cold, you know," I reply matter-of-factly. This is exactly what I used to do with Angel. Needless to say, I'm a bit paranoid when it comes to those things. I was always afraid Angel would get sick in the cold weather. "Why don't you have a coat or somethin'?"

Nick doesn't answer, but rather, clings on to my arm with both hands. "Your coat's warm," he mutters.

I bite my lower lip. "Yeah. Angel got it for me."

"Oh!" He pulls away quickly and stuffs his hands in his vest pockets. I realize that mentioning Angel gave him a reason to let go. He's afraid that it's a touchy subject for me. I look down into his green eyes, which are tinted with sadness.

"No, it's okay...if it makes you warmer, go ahead," I quickly say. But he neither says nor does anything after that until we reach his apartment.

He wordlessly starts to walk ahead of me to the building. But I'll have none of that. "Hey!" I call to him, running after him and grabbing onto his shoulders. I can feel Nick's body tense up at my touch. "Are you okay?"

He turns around to face me. "No."

"Then...then what's wrong?" I ask gently.

He takes a deep breath. "I love you. That's what's wrong."

Gaping at him for a moment, I slowly reach out and touch his arm. "Nick, listen, I—"

"I know what you're going to say," he cuts me off, "that you can't be with me because of Angel, right?"

"You don't—"

"I get that, Collins. I may not be a college teacher like you are, but I'm sure as hell not stupid." Those eyes are glistening, but with anger this time. I want to intervene but he goes on, "I know you love her. That's fine with me. I just thought that maybe I could make a difference in your life, too." He closes his eyes. "I know I'll never be able to make you happy like she did. But I just want you to know how I feel. Just_ looking _at you makes me smile. You're smart, and you're funny, and you always know what to say to make me feel like I'm not the piece of shit that other people have made me out to be. There aren't a lot of people like you, Collins, and I don't want my love for you to go to waste if you don't love me back."

I just stare at him, not really knowing what to say. His body is shaking, and he's crying. I want to hold him and tell him it's okay...but I can't move. "I'm so freakin' frustrated, Collins. I've been trying everything to let you know that you can trust me. I don't know what else to do."

Realizing what he's been saying, he opens his eyes again and quietly mutters, "I'm...I'm sorry. I'm not forcing you to love me. It's your life, you can do whatever you—"

I kiss him. I press my lips to his and pull his shivering body against my own. Closing my eyes, I absorb the feeling of his mouth on mine; his tongue brushing against my own. He moans a little and I put my arms protectively around his waist.

When we break away, he looks up at me as a couple of tears fall from his face down to the ground. The sight breaks my heart, and I wrap my arm around his shoulders. "Come on," I whisper, "Let's go, okay?"

Nick says nothing as I lead him into the building and up to his apartment. He fumbles around in his jean pocket for his key and unlocks the door. At first I'm not sure if he wants to let me in with him or not. But then he takes my hand and almost drags me inside.

I follow him into the bedroom and he turns to me. "Can you stay with me?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I whisper back. He takes both of my hands this time, sitting me down on the bed. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him into me, slowly laying down against the soft pillow. We lay there in silence. It's comforting silence, at least for me. Apparently it's so for Nicky too, because the next time I look down at him, he's dozing off. I can't let him do that just yet.

"Nicky?" I press a kiss to his temple.

"Mmm?" He tilts his head upward and squints at me with that adorable look on his face.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Sunlight shines from the window in Nick's elaborately decorated room. Squinting at the light's intensity, I roll over to see him looking at me on the other side of the bed. The sunlight sparkles against his light skin. "Hi," he says. 

Still half asleep, I gaze at him and out slip the words I will regret: "G'morning, Angel."

"Huh?" Nick sits up, blocking the sunlight from the window.

Blinking stupidly, I say, "I said good morn—oh _shit_." I feel like an idiot. How could I have called him by Angel's name?

"It's okay," he says, but I know it's not. He gets up and heads for the bathroom, and I follow him.

"I am _so_ sorry, Nicky. I really am. The last time I did something like this was when I was with her, and I said it out of habit, and I wasn't even fully awake..." I trail off and look at him for some sign of acceptance or denial of my apology.

"Really, Collins, it's okay." Nick smiles at me reassuringly. "I'm gonna take a shower. I have to go to work soon. What time do your classes start?"

"Two o'clock. I'm done at around seven."

He nods. "My shift ends at three thirty. Maybe...when you get home...you know..."

"You can come to my place," I blurt, "I'll pick you up after work. Okay?"

Nick's beaming at this point. "Sure!"

I can't help but laugh at his excitement. "Alright. I'll see you then. I gotta get going because I told Mark and Roger I'd call them about plans for Christmas Eve..." I roll my eyes. "As if that ever changes. Every year, I go to their place and we get drunk."

"Sounds fun," Nick jokes, giggling. He wraps his arms around my waist. "Thank you for everything."

Leaning down to kiss his cheek, I whisper against his neck, "You've been there for me all along. I just wanted you to know that you have me to hold on to, too."

He smiles against my touch, and for the first time in years, I'm truly and honestly happy.

_It's a damn cold night  
__Trying to figure out this life  
__Won't you take me by the hand,  
__take me somewhere new  
__I don't know who you are, but I'm with you._

—"I'm With You" by Avril Lavigne


	11. All I Want for Christmas is You

It's two days before Christmas Eve, and Nicky has officially moved into my apartment. As pathetic as it sounds, for the first few days, we slept above the covers with only a blanket that I'd stored in the closet to share. Every time Nick tried to pull the covers down on Angel's side of the bed, I would flip out. Nick was even afraid to rest his head on the pillow, so he used my chest instead. I was mortified that Nick had to see me like this, of course, but it was still hard to let go.

By now, though, he sleeps right under the covers with me, and things are better. He's very gentle with me, almost cautious sometimes, and it makes me feel guilty that he has to ask me before he touches almost anything in the house. It's like he lives in a museum.

So I'm sitting in the kitchen, thinking about all of these things, when he walks in and opens the refrigerator. "Hey," I say, standing and walking behind him to wrap my arms around his waist. Now that we have time off from our jobs on Christmas break, we have a lot more time together, "Whatcha doin'?"

He chuckles. "Just getting something to eat...You haven't looked in the closet, have you?" He'd bought me a Christmas present, and since then hasn't let me get something out of the closet without making sure I hadn't seen it.

"No, I haven't," I remark, "But I can't wait." Nick seems quite excited about this; he's grinning up at me as I continue, "Listen; I've been trying to find something you'll like for the past week, but I thought I'd just ask you right out...Baby, what do _you_ want for Christmas?"

"You," he says, smirking as I roll my eyes.

"You already got me, Nick. I can put a bow on my head and have Mark and Roger fit me in a box and carry me over to you on Christmas morning, but that's a lil' much, don't ya think?"

Nick's laugh is like a soft melody ringing in my ears. "You're crazy," he says matter-of-factly, playfully straightening the beanie on my head, "You don't have to get me anything, Collins. But do you want to know what I'd like this year?"

I nod, and he points to the left side of my chest. "That," he commands simply.

"...What?" I'm confused.

"Well, I don't want your _whole_ heart. Just a part of it," Nick explains, "because you already have a spot in mine. And all I want is just a little section of it...so that you don't forget me."

* * *

"Mark! Roger! Throw down the key!" I call out into the cold winter evening. Nicky's hand is in mine as we wait. In a few seconds, I'm clasping the cold metal keys and we make our way up to the loft. I open the door to see the usual scene—Roger strumming some notes on his old guitar, and Mark fumbling around, trying to make the place warmer. He looks up to see Nicky and me, and he smiles. "Hey, Collins!"

"Hey, man," I say, breaking away from Nick only to hug my friend, "How you doin'?"

I hand Mark the keys and hug Roger as Mark replies, "Pretty well. Merry Christmas."

"You, too," I say. I go back to Nicky, who's simply beaming in the excitement of it all, "Uh, guys, this is Nicky. Rog, you know him from Life Support."

Roger nods and smiles at Nicky, who waves madly. "Hi, Roger!" he squeals.

"Hi," Roger says back, smirking at me with raised eyebrows. I try to ignore him as I turn to Mark. "Mark, meet Nicky; Nicky, meet Mark."

"Ah," Mark says, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes, "Collins told me a lot about you, Nick."

Nick is ecstatic about this. "_Really_?! Collins talks about you, too! Nice to meet you!"

Neither Mark or Roger are surprised with Nick's enthusiasm, and I certainly know why. He's just like Angel was. Full of life.

"So," I say, "Are Maureen and Joanne coming?" I look to Nicky. "Believe me, you'll wanna meet them, baby. Quite the characters."

"Amen," Roger mutters, and we laugh as he continues, "They should be here in about a half hour. And in fact, _Charmaine_ should be here any minute." He says Charmaine's name almost mockingly, and Mark tells him to go shove his attitude in a place where the sun don't shine.

Soon, we're all together again. Charmaine brought some food and some wine, and Mark is helping her set it up. Maureen gives me a gigantic hug as soon as she walks through the door. "I miss you. Too much," she whispers into my shirt.

"Hey," I say quietly, "Don't talk like that tonight, okay? It's Christmas Eve."

She looks up at me with watery eyes and nods. Looking behind me, she apparently sees Nicky, for she lets out a squeal. "OH. MY. GOD."

Rolling my eyes, I step back and watch as Maureen runs over to Nick. "Oh, my God. Are you Collins' new boyfriend?"

Nick looks at me, amused, and then says, "Yup. Nicky. And you must be Maureen."

"Oh-my-God-how-did-you-know-you're-so-cute-POOKIE!-come-see-Collins'-new-boyfriend..."

Before Joanne could be at her girlfriend's call, I hug her as well. "How are things in Boston?"

Joanne just looks at me. "They could be better. I'm just glad to be home."

Before our small little Christmas Eve dinner, Roger raises his glass of wine. The entire group of us fall silent as he speaks:

"I wanna make a toast. To being alive, right here, right now. To being with all of you. To having food and a somewhat freezing place to live..."

I have my arm around Nicky's shoulders and we both laugh with everyone else.

"...to all of us for sticking together through all the good shit and the bad shit." He takes a deep breath and finally says, "To Mimi Marquez—my girl. And, of course, to Angel Dumott Schunard. We all miss both of you. Here's to 'no day but today'.

We all raise our glasses, and my eyes are filled with tears. Mimi and Angel are with us right now—in all of our hearts. But still, it's hard being without them. I realize that today marks two years since Angel found me in that alleyway...the day we first met.

* * *

The next morning, I jolt awake as Nick promptly pounces on me. "Merry Christmas, Collins!"

I laugh a little, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with my fists. "Good morning," I say, "Merry Christmas to you, too." He presses his lips against mine, and even if that were the one gift he would give me that day, it would still be the best one in the world.

I pull his body against mine. "So...where's my gift?" I joke.

Nick jumps up. "You'll see!" Laughing at his excitement, I get out of bed and throw a t-shirt on. I go to the living room and I sit down on the couch and he disappears for a moment, returning with a rectangular-shaped box. He hands it to me, and I carefully unwrap the paper.

It's a picture frame, but nothing like I've ever seen before. It's decorated colorfully with designs and sparkles, and there are various pictures scattered all around, almost like a collage.

In the center is a picture of him and myself, smiling brightly. "I had to add that one last minute," Nick says when he notices me staring at it, "because Mark took it yesterday and I still didn't have any really good pictures of you and me until now."

I nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders as I look at the other pictures. Apparently Nick had taken these from where I'd sloppily hung them up around the apartment—there are pictures of me and Mark and Roger, Maureen, Joanne, and Mimi.

And in the top right corner, there is a picture of Angel and me. She's in one of her elaborate outfits, her arms wrapped around my neck, and I'm smiling so big that it looks like my face is about to fall off. It was Valentine's Day. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Nick had glued a heart next to the picture.

"I tried to fit as many pictures in as possible, and I tried picking ones that you'd like, and..." he trailed off and bit his lip like he does when he's nervous.

"This...is _amazing_," I whisper, "Thank you so much." I kiss him and pull him into my arms, trying not to cry. The pictures bring back so many memories—both older and newer ones.

"So you like it?" he asks, still apparently nervous.

"I love it. Thank you..." I find that I'm still clutching onto the frame tightly and realize that Nicky still hasn't gotten his gift yet. "Hold on," I say quickly, gently placing the frame on the coffee table in front of the couch and running into the bedroom.

I come back with a small square box in my hands. I sheepishly sit down beside him and give him the box. "I hope you'll like it, Nick."

"I will," he promises. He takes off the lid of the box and gasps. Slowly pulling the silver ring out of the box, he stares at the small heart pendant in its center. I'd saved up every penny for that ring—I made sure it wasn't too girly, but not too flashy. Just a simple ring that I hoped he'd wear. Nicky looks up at me in astonishment, his eyes glossy with tears.

"There," I say simply, "You have a piece of my heart."

_I just want you for my own, More than you could ever know  
__Make my wish come true; All I want for Christmas is you_

—"All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey


	12. Just Some Guy

"_Hi, baby!" The words echo through the darkened room I'm standing in. I can't remember what I was supposed to be doing. The voice is all I can think about. But why is it so dark? Feeling my way over to the light switch, I flick it and the room is illuminated._

_And there she is. Shoulder-length dark hair, piercing brown eyes, a smile that's contagious. "How was your day, Collins?"_

_Blindly, almost emotionlessly, I shuffle to her and wrap my arms around her. "It was good, Angel. I missed you."_

_She tilts her head sideways. Beautiful; so beautiful. "I missed you, too."_

_I bury my face against her warm neck and feel the emotion flood back into my body. I wish that I could stay like this forever; just her and me. She giggles a little and kisses my cheek. I feel like I'm walking on air. "I love you."_

"_So why did you leave me?" Her voice has gone from perky to bitter in a matter of seconds._

"_...What?" I ask, pulling away from her to see her eyebrows furrowed, a serious expression on her gorgeous face._

_She steps back. "You forgot about me," she replies monotonously. Her voice is almost robotic._

_I protest. "No...No, baby, I wouldn't forget about you...ever!"_

"_You did. You left me, and now I'm all alone. Did I do something wrong?" Now she's inching closer to me again, challenging me for an answer._

"_No!" I grab onto her shoulders, "No, I love you, Angel! I never stopped..."_

_I can say no more, for when I look her in the eyes again, I see that the pretty shades of brown have now become pitch black._

_Yelping, I let go of her shoulders but she keeps coming toward me, with that pitch black gaze... "Why, Collins? Why?"_

"_NO! YOU CAN'T BE HERE!" I shout in spite of myself, clutching onto my head in an attempt to rip the thoughts away, "You're dead! You're not here!"_

"_Don't you remember me Collins? Your Angel?" Her caramel skin is slowly becoming paler and paler; her body is thinning with each passing second._

_I fall to my knees, crying. "Leave me alone! You're not Angel! You can't be—"_

"_One thousand kisses. Did we ever make it?" she kneels down, that pale emaciated face blinking at me. The eyes. The black, dead eyes. They're staring at me. She won't let me go...she won't stop...it hurts...it hurts..._

_Her body is melting before my eyes. "Angel!" I call out._

"_You...left...me..." she mutters, disappearing into the floor, and I'm feeling sick and scared and tired and weak and I'm—_

"Collins! Wake up!"

I almost jump three feet in the air at the sound of someone yelling my name. Looking around, I realize I'm lying in bed, and Angel's not there...I'm sweating and breathing heavily.

"What happened, hun? Nightmare?" says a soft voice. To my right, Nicky is sitting up beside me, those green eyes full of worry. I can't bring myself to answer him yet. The image of Angel—or rather, what I'd thought was Angel—is plastered in front of me. I can't get rid of it.

Slowly, I rest against the pillow again, vivid snippets of the dream flashing through my mind. "I...I don't...I can't..." My attempt to explain is useless. I bring my hands up to my face to find them shaking uncontrollably. I bite my lip to try to relax myself, but it's no use—I'm a mess.

Nicky snuggles up against me and rests his head in the crook of my arm. "You were screaming...I was really scared, and I kept trying to wake you up..."

"I...I'm sorry," I manage to say, and my voice cracks a little. Embarrassed, I just close my eyes to try to get away from it all.

We lay there in silence for a long time, and I think Nicky's asleep until he whispers, "You okay?"

Taking a shaky breath, I whisper back, "I don't know."

"Well, I'm always here if you need me," he replies, gently massaging my chest affectionately.

I place my shaking hand over his warm one, and I feel a little better. But I keep remembering Angel's questions in my nightmare...

_Why did you leave me? Did you forget about me?_

Am I really forgetting about her? I quickly pull my hand away from Nick's. He looks up at me questioningly, and I'm afraid to look up at him.

"Collins? Why'd you pull away?" I say nothing.

"It's Angel, isn't it?" he asks simply.

I can't look at him still, but I nod a little. And then I feel him move away from me. Finally shifting my glance to look at him, I see his body move away from mine. "I'll leave you alone, then," he says sadly, standing up.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

He grabs his pillows. "Couch."

"But, Nicky, I didn't...You don't have to—"

"Forget it," he interjects. "Get some rest. I'll see you after work tomorrow. I"ll be busy, it's the crazy After-New-Years crowd..." Much to my dismay, he turns to leave the room.

I close my eyes and let more tears slide from behind my eyelids. I whisper Nick's name again, but I know he can't hear me now. I can understand how he's feeling. Everything's about Angel. He must feel so left out. But I don't want him to feel like that. I love him, but I also love Angel, and I can't let him disappear from my life like Angel did.

So, despite the fact that my knees are buckling and I feel like I'll vomit at a moment's notice, I stand up and hobble out of the room and toward the couch. I find myself gazing down at Nick, whose eyes are closed as he breathes in and out rhythmically. There are tears on his beautiful face, and it upsets me that I'm the reason he's been crying...

I kneel down near him and press my lips to his. Right before I close my eyes against his touch, I see his sparkling ones open wide with surprise. Nick sits up and wraps his arms around my neck, and our lips part briefly before joining again...

"I'm so sorry," I whisper when we break apart, "Please...please don't leave. Please..."

"_Sshhh_," he hushes me gently, "It's okay...it's okay..."

I gulp loudly, trying to choke back more tears as I explain to him every detail of my dream, relieved to let everything out. "And I know it wasn't her...that Angel wouldn't...she wouldn't..."

"I know," Nick finishes gently, "It was just a nightmare, baby...From what you've told me about Angel, she wouldn't make you feel guilty like that, right?"

I nod a little, and he continues: "Angel loved you, and she would have wanted you to move on; to live out your life. Right?"

"Y...yeah," I agree, "And...you're not...you're not some kind of substitute, Nicky...I love you so much...You mean so much to me, and I'm sorry...that you felt like you were being ignored..."

"Don't worry about that," Nick says quietly, kissing my neck gently, "I love you, too. We're in this together, okay? If you ever just want to talk about things...You have me."

"I know that," I whisper, "I've always known that."

Hand in hand, we go back into the bedroom.

_So he's holding me in his arms, and he's giving me sweet little kisses  
And he's telling me he'll never harm me, and he's whispering how wonderful this is  
And I tell him that I love him, and I tell him I'll be true  
And I've said these things to other boys, but right now the old words feel so new  
And I ask him, "How did I get so lucky? I didn't even have to try"  
"I don't know," he says, "I'm nothing special, I'm just some guy."  
_—"Just Some Guy" by Anthony Rapp


	13. I'm So Sick

**Reviews? -makes puppydog eyes-**

* * *

I tug at the collar of my t-shirt absently as Nick, Roger, Mark, Charmaine and I sit at the Life Café for a typical get-together. I'm finding it unbearably warm in the restaurant. 

"Does anyone else feel like it's a hundred freakin' degrees in here?" I blurt in spite of myself.

Nick looks up at me from his menu. "Babe, it's the middle of February. They have a heating system in here."

I wipe a little bit of sweat from my brow, and Roger looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Are you okay, man? You look like you're gonna pass out."

Great. Now everyone's worrying about me. "I'm fine...I'll be fine."

We order our food and some drinks, and Nicky grabs my hand under the table. I try not to pay attention to the fact that he's watching my every move as I make an attempt to start conversation: "So, was it me, or was it obvious at Christmas that Maureen and Joanne hate it in Boston?"

Mark nods in agreement, taking a sip of his Coke. "Oh, yeah. Every time any of us mentioned it, they looked disgusted."

"They've probably argued about it," Roger comments, "like they do with everything else."

"They argue a lot?" Charmaine questions. Roger, Mark, and I all exchange glances.

"Charmaine," I say, shaking my head, "You have no idea."

She laughs, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Normal conversation ensues up until a point where I have to excuse myself to go to the mens' room. The heat is _unbearable_, and apparently I'm the only one who thinks so.

Gazing at my reflection in the washroom mirror, I can't help but notice that Roger had been right. I do look like I'll pass out any second. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Suddenly a wave of nausea comes over me, and before I can make it to one of the stalls, I find myself shaking uncontrollably and I'm making retching sounds that I'm sure anyone could hear for a mile away. I squeeze my eyes shut and clutch onto the sides of the sink, waiting for it to be over.

When I open my eyes again, it must be at least five minutes since I started vomiting. Some guy who's just walking away from the urinals is staring at me in disgust, and I don't blame him. I stand there for a good two minutes to rinse out the sink, wash my hands, and regain my composure. Sighing shakily, I make my way back over to the table.

"Shit, Collins, we thought you fell in," Roger mutters.

I'm in no mood for Roger's attitude. I say nothing as I sit down next to Nick, who wraps his tiny arms around me. Afraid that I'm sick and it's contagious, I casually pull his hands away from me and hold them under the table instead. At this point I'm feeling dizzy and tired, and a little dazed and spaced out. Everyone around me is talking but I can't seem to register what they're saying.

"Collins?...Collins, what the hell?" Mark is saying, but my mind is blank and I can't say anything.

Nick's AZT beeper goes off, and everything's spinning, and I'm lost. The voices and the sounds seem to fade away.

I feel Nick pull me up from my chair a few moments later. "Collins, you're sick. I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

"No..." I mutter, "You...you stay here; I'll walk myself..."

Nick shakes his head firmly, grabs my arm again and says to Mark and Roger, "I gotta get him home. We'll talk to you soon." He smiles weakly at them.

"Feel better, Collins," Charmaine says sweetly. Mark and Roger mutter something to that effect; I nod to them and start walking. Luckily, Nicky's holding on to me, or else I might have fallen already due to the fact that I'm so dizzy.

* * *

"Collins?" 

I open my eyes to see Nicky peering down at me with the phone in his right hand. I squint up at him quizzically. He had insisted that I take a nap when we got home, and I must have been out for quite a while.

"Sorry I had to wake you up," he whispers, "Maureen's on the phone for you, and at first I told her that you could call her back when you wake up, but she sounded pretty upset, so..."

I nod. "I got it. Thanks."

He leans down and kisses my forehead while handing me the phone, and I smile a little before calling into the receiver, "Maureen? Whassup?"

"Collins, I can't do this anymore," she says flatly.

I close my eyes. "What do you mean? Live in Boston?"

"Yeah. I can't. Joanne...she's working so hard..." Her voice is thick with tears as she speaks, "But we can't make it work, Collins. I hate it here. I wanna go back."

"Then come _home_, girl," I say reassuringly, "It was obvious when I talked to Joanne that she wants to come back too. What's stoppin' you?"

Maureen sniffs. "I don't want to hurt Joanne...Like I said, she worked so hard for this. So did I. And, relationship wise, the fact that we're here and unhappy doesn't help. I don't know how many fights we've had over this..."

I briefly recall the irony of what Roger had said at the Life Café about Maureen and Joanne arguing over being in Boston. We all knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.

"Listen," I say gently, "You can come back whenever you want. We're still here for you."

"I know," she replies, "and I can't thank you enough for that."

There's a moment of silence before she remarks, "So, Nick said you weren't feeling too well. Are you okay?"

_Way to tell the whole world, Nicky. I might as well tell her, anyway._ "I, uh...I got sick at the Life Café—"

"I _told_ you that disgusting food would bite you in the ass at some point!"

I laugh a little. "No, Mo...it was before we ate."

"Oh...Are you still feeling shitty?"

I sigh. "Maureen, I...it's...it's been happening a lot lately. The dizziness, fevers...stuff like that...I'm used to it."

There's a long pause before Maureen finally says, "You don't think it means...that you're..." She trails off, but I know what she means.

"Honestly, Maureen, you can never be sure. I mean, maybe I've just got a cold or something..."

"You know what a cold can turn into. Look at what happened to Angel."

I cringe at Maureen's blatant tone. "Maureen, don't...don't talk about it like that."

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, "But you know I'm right. It can happen at any moment."

She _is_ right. Angel had a cold that turned into pneumonia; it tortured her to a point where her already infected body couldn't handle it anymore. I shudder at the thought and eventually bid Maureen goodbye. I can't help but hope she and Joanne will come home. Soon.

_I'm so sick, infected with __where I live, let me live  
__without this empty bliss, __selfishness; I'm so sick_

—"I'm So Sick" by Flyleaf


	14. How Far?

**A/N: The lack of reviews is depressing, but thanks to those who are sticking with this fic. -gives everyone cookies-**

* * *

The bustling and shuffling erupting in my classroom lets me know that my last class of the day has ended. Students are picking up their books and quietly making their way out the door. I've just given out my final assignment for the day, and I patiently wait for everyone to leave so that I can be alone. 

Even they, who typically barely take notice to anything except for themselves and their cliquey little friends, can tell I'm not at my best right now. They're used to my long lectures and peculiar questions that leave them hanging until next class. As of now, I can barely say a couple of sentences without taking a deep breath afterward to prepare myself for the next one. They're not used to that.

Hell, _I'm_ not used to it. Nicky isn't used to it. Neither are Roger or Mark. This isn't like me. It's like no matter how much rest I get, I'm still tired. No matter how many water bottles I go through in a day, my throat's still dry. I'm missing something in myself that I won't be able to find, because I'm not quite sure what it is I'm missing in the first place.

The subway ride home seems like hours. I'm tired, I feel a headache coming on, and I'm nauseous. And for the past couple of weeks, this is how it's been.

Every. Single. Day.

I close my eyes, and even though the couple of homeless people sitting across from me are talking loudly, while at the same time a mother holds her screaming child in her arms on my left, I find myself dozing off. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to handle fighting this disease before it completely takes over my body. Angel had to go through all of this, and for all I know it had been ten times worse for her. Her body was so much smaller and fragile than my own...and even so, I have a feeling she was stronger than I could ever be.

* * *

"Hey, baby!" I hear Nick call out as soon as I walk through the door. 

I can't help but smile weakly as he bounds over to me happily. The smile on his face fades when he takes a good look at me. "Oh, my God...Collins, you look...awful..." He brings his hand to my face, and the ring I bought him is sparkling on his index finger.

"Thanks," I mutter.

He shakes his head. "You know I'm not sayin' that to be mean," he says, "You look sick. Go lie down, okay? I ordered a pizza tonight; we saved up enough to afford one this week...so when you're ready, I'll warm it up and—"

"Nick," I intervene sharply, and only after I say this do I realize how angry I sound, "Just...don't, okay? I've been coming home and going to bed for the past week. I'm sick of it. I really am."

Nick's eyebrows furrow, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. That's what he always does when he's angry. Angel used to scrunch up her nose when she was mad at me... "What else do you want me to do, Collins? I'm trying to help you." His voice is filled with worry.

"I don't want any help," I mutter, limping over to the couch and sitting down.

Nick shakes his head. "Hate to burst your bubble, but I don't really care whether you _want_ any help or not. I'm not gonna sit on my ass and watch you do absolutely nothing about the sickness that you know is taking over you and—"

"Will you _stop_ being condescending to me?!" I bellow, "I don't need any help from you or anyone else. I'm not a kid, Nick; I can take care of myself."

"Fine," he retorts, "Don't listen to me. Do whatever the hell you want. Mope around. That's what you want, right?"

"Excuse me?" I stand up slowly and ignore the dizziness I'm feeling.

Nick nods. "You heard me right. Before you finally let me into your life, you were a mess.

"Admit it," he says when I open my mouth to protest, "You were. You sat around waiting to die so that you wouldn't have to live without Angel." Nick takes a deep breath and stares me down. But I'm staring back right into those green eyes, this time with anger.

Nick continues, "Answer me this, Collins. If she were still alive, would you be acting like this?"

I gape at him in astonishment. "What the hell are you suggesting?!"

"I'm suggesting that you're refusing to love anyone but her. I understand that you loved her, Collins, and I know she loved you, too."

A lone tear trickles down my face as I continue to glare coldly at Nick. "You don't know...anything..."

"You can tell yourself that," Nick says softly, "But I think I know the reality of the situation."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah? Why don't you tell me, Nick?"

"_You're asking for another Angel_!" he shouts, "And I can't be that, Collins! I can't..." He closes his eyes and clenches his fists. "I'm not Angel. I never will be," he whispers, "And if what you've wanted all this time is for Angel to come back again, it's not gonna happen."

He's right. But I can't let him be right. "I know she's not coming back..."

Nick's eyes soften for a moment, and I continue, "We had something that I didn't think I would be able to find with anyone else in the world after she left. You came along and changed that."

"That's only because," he says, "I reminded you of her. That's the only reason you wanted to be with me, right? Just as a reminder of what you had?"

I close my eyes and let the tears flow. I knew this would happen—he's misunderstanding my reasoning for finally letting him be in my life. "I don't...but...you..."

"But like I said," Nick makes his way over to me and brushes his fingers against my face to wipe the tears away, "I'm not her. I'm sorry."

I open my eyes again and he's gone; the door is slowly shutting behind him as he runs away from everything we've built over the past few months.

* * *

Something tells me that I won't be able to sleep alone tonight, so I slowly make my way to Mark and Roger's loft. "Guys!" I call weakly, "Anyone? Throw the key!" 

Roger peers down from above and nods to me, throwing the key down. I'm still feeling dizzy as I make my way up the steps and open the sliding door to the loft.

Charmaine is sitting on Mark's lap, apparently in deep conversation with him. Only when I clear my throat do either of them look up.

"Hey, Collins!" Mark says, "What's up? Where's Nick?"

"Gone," I say flatly. Roger looks up from his coffee mug, and Charmaine's eyes widen.

Mark straightens his glasses and stands up as Charmaine slides off his lap. "What happened?"

"He left," I say, trying to be as blunt as possible, "We had an argument."

Roger gestures for me to sit down, and I do. I lean against the back of the couch and close my eyes. "Why did he leave?" Roger asks.

"Because he realized that I'm an asshole."

Charmaine rolled her eyes. "Collins, could ya be a little more specific, hon?"

"He realized that the main reason I fell in love with him is because he reminds me of Angel. He thinks he's a replacement for her." I sigh and look at all three of my friends for some kind of reaction from them.

"Here," Mark says, throwing me a ratty old blanket, "You can stay here for tonight. In Benny's old room, which hasn't been dusted in like, a million years. We don't have any sheets on the mattress, so take that blanket..."

Those are honestly the most comforting words I've heard all day.

_How far do I have to go to make you understand?  
__I wanna make this work so much, it hurts  
__But I just can't keep on givin', go on livin'  
__with the way things are...So I'm gonna walk away  
and it's up to you to say how far._

—"How Far" by Martina McBride


	15. Wherever You Will Go

There's a loud knocking sound that makes its way into my barely conscious mind. I'm half-dreaming, and the sound forces me to open my eyes.

How long has it been? Two days? Three? I don't know. I had left Mark and Roger's in a daze. Now here I am, staring up at the ceiling as I lay, the collage Nick made me for Christmas in my hand as it loosely dangles off the edge of the couch.

The knocking continues, and it's giving me a headache. Finally, I shakily stand up as my head pounds from the fever wracking my entire body. I had gone for a check-up appointment at the clinic the day before. The doctor told me I wasn't doing as well as when he'd last seen me, and I sure as hell wasn't surprised by that. He advised that I rest and make sure I'm taking my AZT, and all of that crap that they always tell me...

I open the door so that the knocking will stop, and Mark is standing in front of me with Charmaine standing beside him. "Hi, Collins," she says quietly.

"You look like shit," Mark says bluntly.

"I'd rather not be standing here listening to you talk my ear off about how I gotta take care of myself, Mark," I retort, "Which is why you're here, right?"

Charmaine and Mark exchange a glance. "We were just checking up on you," Charmaine explains, "You don't have to be mad at us."

She looks at me, and the black eyeliner above and below her eyes bring out the reddish-brown, fiery glow. It's a look of sympathy. And sympathy is the last thing I need right now.

"I'm fine," I mutter in an attempt to convince them to leave me alone.

Charmaine peers past me into the apartment. "Nicky hasn't come back yet?"

Her question is innocent, but I can't help but feel furious. "Isn't it obvious he doesn't intend to?" I bark.

She blinks, taken-aback, and takes hold of Mark's hand. "Maybe we should leave," I hear her whisper to him.

Mark glances toward me, his bright blue eyes glossy and tired-looking. He starts to say something, but at this point I'm not registering what he's saying, because the room has suddenly begun to spin.

I close my eyes and open them again to steady myself, but it's no use. Mark and Charmaine's faces are simply blurs, and I feel like I'm on a roller coaster.

Reaching my hands out in front of me, I try to feel for some kind of surface to hold onto. But it's too late. I'm sailing backwards...farther and farther...everything's dark...

For a moment, my entire body is numb, and I feel nothing.

I feel Mark and Charmaine helping me onto the bed. I try to open my eyes to look at them, but I can't find the strength. I'm shivering and coughing and I can't take this...

"Relax, man, I'm gonna call an ambulance," I hear Mark say.

_I can't let him do that_, is my first thought, _not now...they'll let me die there..._ "No!" I shout.

"Why not?" Charmaine asks frantically, "You're sick, Collins, you need a doctor!"

"No!" I bellow, "Not now! Not until...not until I'm..." I'm slipping in and out of consciousness, and I struggle to say the words, "Don't...I need to see him...see..."

I briefly wonder if I'm making any sense, but then Charmaine replies with, "We have to find Nick...Call Roger, baby, he needs to know about this..."

"We can't wait too long, Char! He might not make it through this; it's happened too many times for too long," Mark says, his voice cracking.

"He's stubborn and you know it. He won't go until he knows Nick is okay. We have to find him."

Eventually, I can't find the strength to listen anymore, and I give in to the restless sleep that's calling me.

* * *

"_Rog, did you call Maureen and Joanne?"_

"_Yeah, they know...you think we should get the..."_

"_...fever is going down, but I'm not sure..."_

"_Oh, my God...I can't believe he didn't..."_

"_...wake up any time soon?"_

The sounds of gentle and hushed voices awaken me. All I can hear are broken sentences and the occasional sniff or cough. I squint at the light in the room and take a deep breath.

"Collins?" I hear Roger's voice coming from my left. "Guys, I think he's awake."

I open my eyes fully to see three faces peering down at me. Mark's pale one, Charmaine's bright and fiery glow, and Roger's worried expression.

"Thank God," Charmaine whispers, biting her lower lip nervously. I blink slowly to shake the sleep away.

Roger shakes his head, standing back and taking a look at me, "Jesus," he says, "You scared the shit out of all of us. You okay?"

I manage a nod. "You guys...didn't have to...stay..." I say to them.

Mark's eyebrows furrow. "Yes, we did. Whether you were acting like an asshole or not, we were gonna be there."

I couldn't help but smile a little. "M'sorry about that..."

"Don't worry about it," Charmaine says with a wave of her hand, "There's someone here who wanted to see you."

With the little energy I can muster, I sit up, and in the corner of the room stands Nick Sanders. The emerald eyes are shining with tears, and his arms are crossed tightly in front of his chest. He's looking at me with so many emotions pouring out of his small body, and I want to get up and run over to him, but I can't. Mark, Charmaine, and Roger quietly slip out of the room. I think it's better off that way; it makes it a lot less awkward.

Finally, he takes some steps toward the bed and sits down on the edge, staring down at his clasped hands as they shake violently.

"Nick..." I whisper, "You came back..."

He nods. "Did you think I could've been without you for long?"

I'm not sure how to answer him. Instead, I raise a hand and reach out to him. "Please...Forgive me? I don't know how else to say I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to," Nick replies, "We don't have to do anything."

I'm lost as to what he's trying to say until he moves closer on the bed and gently lays beside me, resting in the crook of my arm like he always does. Now I understand what he means.

"We don't have to say anything...or do anything..." he mumbles, his voice thick with tears, "It can be just like this for a while, okay?"

I close my eyes and lean down to kiss the top of his forehead. "I missed you."

"I know," he whispers, "I missed you, too."

I wrap my arms around him with as much strength as I have, though it isn't much. Somehow, I think I love him and appreciate him and miss him and want him more than he will ever know.

_I know now, just quite how. My life and love might still go on  
In your heart, in your mind, I'll stay with you for all of time  
If I could, then I would. I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low, I'll go wherever you will go_

—"Wherever You Will Go" by The Calling


	16. What I Did For Love

"Here, baby, sit up...You have to keep drinking so you're not dehydrated..."

Nick's voice sounds so far away; it's barely audible. I heave myself up against the bed's headboard and hold out a shaking hand to grab the class of water.

Nick wags a finger at me. "Uh-uh. I don't want you to drop it," he says.

So I close my eyes and let him press the cool glass against my dry lips. I drink all of the water in a matter of seconds. This is how it's been for the past few days. Sleep, drink, sleep again...

"You know," Nick says softly, settling back down in his cross-legged position on the edge of the bed, "If you had let us take you to the hospital, you wouldn't be in such—"

"I'd be in as much pain as I'm in now," I interrupt, my voice hoarse and scratchy.

Nick bites his lower lip. "I don't want you to be like this when they can help you there, Collins."

"They didn't help Angel," I retort, "so they sure as hell can't help me."

My eyes still closed, I feel his warm fingers brush against my face. "I've been trying to convince you to go to the hospital for three days. You're stubborn, you know that?" he whispers.

"Yeah. Lots of people tell me that," I reply. I hear his quiet laughter and smile a little.

We stay in silence for a while until I ask, "What day is it today?"

"March 3rd," Nicky says.

I realize I haven't visited Angel in a long time. "Could you do something for me?" I mumble.

"Anything," I hear him say.

I open my eyes to look into his beautiful ones. "Would you take me...to see Angel?"

Nick slowly shakes his head. "Collins," he whispers, "I can't do that."

"Why not?" I hear my own raspy voice rising.

"Because," Nick says, trying to be gentle, "you're sick. It's cold outside, hun. You can't..."

I sit up, ignoring the shooting pain in my head and the weakness in my body. Standing up wobbly, I almost fall right back down against the bed. Nick grabs my arm to steady me.

"Collins, stop! You're hurting yourself!" he cries, but I continue to ignore him.

I take a couple of tentative steps toward the bathroom, but Nick's holding on to me firmly.

"Let me go," I command quietly, "I have to see her. One more time."

Nick's grip on my arm loosens a little. "Okay," he gives in, "Fine...but I'm coming with you. And you have to wear a sweater and your coat and make sure that you're warm enough and—"

I press my lips against his warm ones, trying to tell him without words that I'll be fine as long as he's with me. He seems to understand, because after that, he says nothing more.

* * *

Flowers I had left at Angel's grave in the past lay dead and ugly below the cold headstone. It takes all my strength to bend down and place a new bouquet there in front of the old ones. 

"Hi, love," I whisper, "It's me. Sorry I haven't been here." My teeth are chattering; I stuff my hands in the pockets of my ratty coat.

Nick is standing a little ways behind me, and I beckon him closer. He takes a few steps forward so that he's standing beside me.

"This is someone I've been wanting you to meet," I manage to say, my breath shortening, "His name's Nicky. And he saved me." Nick looks up with those shining eyes. I go on, "He saved me from myself. Just like you did."

I wrap an arm around Nick's shoulders, and he says, "I wish I could have known you, Angel."

We look like a couple of idiots, he and I, just standing there talking to a tombstone. But neither of us seem to care right now.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'll be seeing you soon," I continue, "I'm dying and there's nothing else that really can be done..."

I hear a little choking sound and I turn to face Nick, who's full-out crying by now. I squeeze onto his hand tightly. "But I know you'll take good care of Nicky, right? Until I'm up there with you? I know you will. I'll see you soon."

I'm about to start walking away, but Nick doesn't move. He's pressed his face against my chest at this point, sniffing and clutching onto my hands. I'm suddenly very tired now, and all I can do is rest my chin on his shoulder and close my eyes.

We eventually start to walk home, Nicky supporting me with all of the strength he can muster. I'm cold and weak, but nevertheless I try to calm him down as his body starts to shake every once in a while from the tears he's holding in.

Finally, I can't bear watching him like this anymore, and I pull him off to the side, steadying myself against the wall of a building. "Ssshh," I soothe him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him into me.

"No..I have to get you home...Let's just go..." he protests.

"Nicky," I say gently, "You gotta stop, okay? I don't want you getting sick, too."

He sniffs and looks up at me. "I'm sorry...I'm acting so selfish. But I can't afford to lose another person in my life."

I glance down at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I lost both my parents. I had no friends before you introduced me to yours. My brother doesn't talk to me because he's ashamed of me. I've _never_ been truly loved before you came around."

At first, all I can do is blink stupidly at him. "Nicky...Everyone is loved by somebody."

"Not me," he mumbles, his voice cracking, "Never me. The only boyfriend I ever had before you was an asshole; he treated me like I was dirt, and we got AIDS and I felt like I could never find anyone who would even _look_ at me anymore..."

I open my mouth to say something, but then close it again. This is his time to talk. Not mine.

"...I'm serious, Collins. As a kid, I was a freak. Born into an Irish-Italian family that was always angry and fighting...My parents died in a car accident when I was fourteen, around the time I realized I was gay...and I had no one to talk to about it. I was a loner. I always have been. And when I met you, it was like all of that shit just disappeared..."

I find myself holding him in my arms and kissing the top of his head. "It's okay...it's okay..."

"So I had to move in with my stupid grandparents. And I was the ugly one. The embarrassment of the family. The tainted kid; the messed up one who got the shit beaten out of him at least once a week in high school..."

Nick sighs heavily and looks up at me, whispering, "You made me feel like I was a _somebody_! That I meant something to someone in this screwed up world..."

I had always imagined that his life had been like Angel's...with a lot of friends, people who understood him even though he was different. But I guess I was wrong.

"It's what I've been trying to tell you all along," Nick says, "I'm just the opposite of Angel. From what you've told me, she's always had people to stand beside her, even when other people tried to bring her down. I didn't have anybody. Just you."

And suddenly it hits me. Hard. When I'm gone, he'll think he has nothing. Just like I did when Angel had died.

I can't let him live like that. I can't let him make the mistakes I made. I need to tell him that he is an amazing person with the rest of his life to live, more people to meet, more places to go...

Somehow, though, I'm afraid that by the time he is able to understand, I'll already be gone.

_Gone, love is never gone.  
As we travel on, love's what we'll remember.  
Kiss today goodbye, and point me toward tomorrow.  
We did what we had to do. Won't forget, can't regret  
What I did for love_  
---"What I Did For Love" from _A Chorus Line_


	17. For Good

**One more chapter after this one, folks! Thanks to all who are reviewing and reading. Enjoy this chappie!**

* * *

"Collins? You awake, honey? It's me, sweetie...it's Maureen..."

I open my eyes is the brightness of the white walls in the hospital room. I squint until the pain in my eyes subsides, and then slowly ease them open to see Maureen's tear-stained face. Great. For the past week and a half since I'd been admitted, that's all I've seen. Crying.

"Hey," she whispers, squeezing my arm a little. I notice that Joanne is standing behind Maureen, staring down at the shiny, scratched tiled floor. She looks like she'll pass out any minute.

Maureen sits down on the edge of the bed ever so gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but I'm okay," I whisper, "You...You came all the way back here..."

She rolls her eyes. "Let's not talk about me. This is about _you_."

It's weird, listening to Maureen say that she _doesn't_ want to talk about herself. It's not like her. She doesn't seem like herself, and neither does Joanne. But I understand how they're feeling, having to watch a friend die—all over again.

"Uh," Joanne clears her throat and comes closer to me, "If you're wondering...we told Nicky to go home for a little while, and that we'd watch you. He's a wreck."

I nod a little. I'm not surprised. Nick hasn't left this room since we came here. I'm glad they forced him to go home, because he sure as hell needs it.

Gathering up the strength to talk again, I say, "We've missed you. How's it going in Boston?"

Joanne coughs a little, and that's when I see the tears streaming down her face. I look away so I don't have to see her so upset because of me, lying here, barely able to formulate sentences...

Maureen finally answers my question: "Collins...there's no Boston anymore."

I stare at her quizzically for a moment, trying to register what she's just said. "What?"

"We moved out," Joanne says flatly.

At first I'm completely shocked. "But...why?" I ask.

"Because we couldn't stand it. At first, and we didn't want to admit it," Maureen explains, "And we missed you all so much..." She trails off, more tears filling her big brown eyes.

"And I realized," Joanne continues, "that it wasn't worth it. Leaving all of you guys behind for some higher-paying job just _wasn't_ worth it. We were thinking of coming back, and then Mark called and told us about you, and we knew we had to..."

Although I have a feeling I wouldn't have much more time with them either way, I'm glad that they've finally come home. "That's great!" I say enthusiastically, my voice hoarse.

We talk for a while after that, and I try to make them laugh; to make them forget about the fact that I'm losing energy and life with each passing second. But lying beneath all of the happiness, we're broken inside. A kind of broken that somehow just can't be mended.

* * *

Roger and Mark come to see me when Maureen and Joanne leave to go unpack. Roger's thinner than ever before. Mark looks so lost and shattered that it's as if he himself is made up of a puzzle, sloppily glued together so that he might fall apart in a second's time.

"Hi, guys," I greet them when they walk through the door. Roger hobbles over to a chair and sits down, and Mark stands in the corner. They're distant. Normally, when we're all together in a room, we talk about anything and everything. It's different, now. It's silent.

"How are you?" Mark asks quietly.

I raise my eyes to look at his forlorn face. "I'm...as good as I'm gonna get. Where's Char?"

"Work," he answers, "She said she'd stop by tonight. I'll probably come with her."

Roger sniffs loudly, and I look over to him. "How you been, man?" I inquire.

"Okay," he says, "It's quiet at the loft without everyone around..."

I laugh a little. "Yeah, I know, we're the life of the party."

Roger excuses himself for a moment and disappears out the door. I jab a thumb toward the door. "What the hell is up with him?"

Mark says nothing. Instead, he looks down at me with glossy blue eyes.

"Okay...scratch that..." I mutter, "What the hell is up with _both_ of you?"

"I don't think you realize," he says firmly, "how hard this is for us."

I'm taken aback at his sudden outburst. "Mark, listen, I know—"

"_No_. You don't, Collins," he interrupts, "Roger had to leave the room. You know why? Because he can't look at you anymore; he knows that's how Mimi was and it's how he'll end up. So that leaves me to stay in here, by myself, and watch you die in front of me, while I can't do a fucking thing about it." His voice begins to crack.

"I can't," he mumbles through gritted teeth, "do this anymore, Collins. Watch it all happen. It happened with April, then Angel, then Mimi...Now you. And it'll be Roger next! And..."

He intakes a sharp breath and buries his face in his hands, muttering curse words and muffled phrases that I can't decipher. Silently crying, he sinks into the chair Roger had previously occupied, turned away from me so that I can't see his face. It pains me to watch him.

"Mark," I attempt to calm him down, "Mark, listen to me..._Look_ at me."

Mark does what he's told, his head snapping up to stare at me with pain-stricken eyes.

"This just goes to show how strong you are," I whisper, "People's lives have come and gone right in front of you, and you've held on, supporting your friends, through all of it."

He sniffs and lifts his glasses to roughly wipe the tears away, and I go on, "You're a great guy, Mark. You and Roger have been my best friends since high school..."

He bites his lip and nods. "That's exactly why it's so hard to let go."

"I know," I say, "I know how it feels. I wish I had more time to show how much I appreciated you and Rog always being there..."

Mark takes a deep breath and stands up, walking over to the door. "You already have, Collins," he says, giving a final sad glance in my direction, "You already have."

* * *

Nicky arrives that afternoon, immediately running over to kiss me on the lips happily. He looks good; refreshed. I'm happy to see him so full of life again. For the past two weeks, he's been worried sick about me.

"How you feelin', baby? I missed you!" he squeals, snuggling up against me.

I chuckle. "I missed you too, Nicky. You didn't tell me Mo and Jo were coming back..."

"I wanted to surprise you! They came to visit, right? With Mark and Roger?"

I nod solemnly. "Yeah...yeah, they did."

Nick raises an eyebrow. "Did something happen?" he asks.

"They know it's coming," I said simply.

Nick knows exactly what I mean, and his expression immediately changes from happy to upset.

"It's just...hard to see all of 'em so upset over me..."

Nick nods, leaning up to kiss my cheek affectionately. "It's because you're so special, Collins. I don't think you realize how important you are to all of us sometimes..."

I wrap my arms around him and kiss his temple. "Thank you, Nick...for just...being here for me. It's been a rough day..."

He gently traces circles against my chest. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

The tone of his voice tells me that he's just as afraid as Mark, Roger, Maureen and Joanne. Afraid of letting go.

_It well may be that we will never meet again  
__in this lifetime, so let me say before we part:  
__So much of me is made of what I've learned  
__from you; you'll be with me like a hand print on my heart._

—"For Good" from the musical _Wicked_


	18. Seasons of Love FINAL CHAPTER

**Final chapter, folks! Thanks to all those who reviewed; I hope you enjoy this final chapter.  
DISCLAIMER: Own nothing, never will (with the exception of Nick's character).**

* * *

Nick's quiet sobs have become rhythmic at this point, his shaky, heaving breaths a sort of sad lullaby. He's clutching onto my frail body for dear life, and I'm holding his hand with as much strength as I have left—which is barely any at all. 

Once in a while I feel like I can't breathe. Sometimes the world goes black and when I wake up, I can't remember anything. Nicky's always there, though, crying inside behind the encouraging smile he gives me when I look at him.

"Collins," he says softly, "I want you to know something."

My eyes are closed, but he knows I'm listening, because I squeeze onto his hand a little.

"I know...that wherever you go after this, you'll see Angel again. I just have a feeling you will."

The thought of this makes me feel a little better, knowing I have somewhere to go when it all comes to an end.

Nick lays down on the small bed beside me, stroking my cheek, "So," he continues, "I just want you to know that it's okay if you want to rejoin her again. When the time comes."

"But I don't...want to...leave...you..." I mutter.

"I know, and I don't want you to leave me. But I don't want you to hold onto this life if it hurts you too much." He takes a deep breath, leans down and kisses my forehead. "I want you to let go when you know it's the right time. Okay? I'll be fine down here. I promise."

My eyes fill with tears at what he's saying, but I keep them behind my eyelids. This isn't a time to cry. I'm not going to cry anymore.

"I want to thank you...for saving my life," I whisper, "Only two people...have been able to do that for me. You and Angel."

Nicky sniffs, and I pull him closer to me. "I don't think you know how amazing you are...I've tried so hard...to show that to you...and I hope you realize...how much you've meant to me..."

He knows it's hard for me to talk, and that I have to take a couple of breaths in between words, so he stays quiet as I go on:

"You...made me feel...like a new person, when I thought...that I would never be...okay again. I thought...I would always be...sad...and alone...But you changed that."

I hold on tight to his shaking body as he cries. "I love you," he whispers, "You changed my life, Collins. You made me realize that love is always there for everyone, even for someone like me."

"_Especially_," I wheeze, "for someone...like you..."

It's about time now. The room is a blur. So is Nicky. I briefly hear the door open and close a couple of times. I hear the voices of Mark and Charmaine, then of Roger, Maureen, and Joanne. I want to tell them everything that's been left unsaid, everything I want them to know...But it's too late for that. Maybe they'll figure it out on their own.

Maureen is crying so loudly that it's almost deafening. I open my eyes a little with the energy I can muster, and there she is, in Joanne's arms, shaking violently. Roger is leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, tears streaming down his face. Mark is sitting in a chair, taking slow, deep breaths. Charmaine is standing beside him, biting her lip as tears fall against her flawless skin.

Nick is whispering that it's okay, and I know that it is. I tell him that I love him, and tell the rest of them that they'll be okay...

It's dark now. I can't feel anything. Voices are fading, senses are failing...It's so dark, and yet, it's warm, and there's a light that seems at first so far off, and then it gets closer, and closer...

Nothing.

* * *

At first it's like I'm outside my body, and I can't hear or feel or see anything. Suddenly, I'm surrounded by nothingness, and all I can see is a white glow coming from every direction. Confusion is the first emotion I'm feeling as I stumble about, my hands in front of me, not sure of where I'm headed. 

And then everything becomes clear. She's standing before me, her hands folded behind her, a smile gracing her perfect lips. I'm not quite sure what to do at first. I'm afraid if I approach her, she'll disappear, like an illusion...

But I take a few steps forward anyway, just so I can get a better look at her. I always thought she was that kind of person who had a shine about her, but now, she was _literally_ glowing.

Finally I'm face-to-face with her. And I say the words I've been wanting to say for two years. "Hello, my Angel."

She beams at me, slowly wrapping her arms around my neck. Her smell is how I last remembered it...a sweet, homey scent.

As she presses her lips against mine, I'm able to feel her touch that I thought I'd never feel again, place my hands on the waist of a person whom I've been missing for so long.

I'm not sure how long the kiss goes on. A few seconds? Minutes? I'm not keeping track of time. It's just she and I, and that's all that matters.

"I missed you," she says. That voice, like chimes blowing in the gentle breeze...

I bring my face to her neck, whispering, "I've missed you, too."

The words we exchange are simple. We're not crying, we're not upset. We're just being together, and I have a feeling it's what we both want.

She takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Come on," she says, "I've been waiting for you. We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

I nod, thinking of Nicky. "Yeah, baby girl," I agree, "Yeah, we do."

Hand in hand, we walk into the light.

- THE END -

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes  
five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear  
525,600 minutes; how do you measure, measure a year?  
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights and cups of coffee  
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.  
In 525,600 minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?  
How about love? How about love? How about love?  
Measure in love, seasons of love._  
---"Seasons of Love" from _Rent_.


End file.
